Heroes and Demons
by Javanyet
Summary: Sequel to Past Imperfect. Mortal introspection provides new turns in established relationships for both Maura and Natalie. Visit my profile to see the ring that Nick gives Maura in the last scene.
1. Casting out

Sure there were shootouts and car chases and the odd hostage negotiation, all of it scattered between bodies and near-bodies. But some nights detective work was just… plain… drudgery.

This Monday night was one of those. Schanke and Nick were planted at their desks, shackled to their computers, compiling and sorting and spread-sheeting data that would be forwarded to the provincial capital to be forwarded to the Crown office of crime statistics. Citizens of Toronto were being uncommonly kind to one another this particular week, as if in consideration of the annual record-keeping effort.

"Everyone's gotta do their bit to help Toronto's finest give the armchair crime fighters in Ottawa something to pontificate about over their cognac," Schanke grumbled as he hit the backspace key about a dozen times, for about the dozenth time in the past three minutes.

"C'mon, Schank, you know these numbers help justify those _other_ numbers we keep begging for," Nick placated. No dice.

"Right, we gotta beg for the funds to protect and serve. Nice."

No use bitching about it. But everyone did, Nick included, though he didn't usually start rolling until the end of the week's effort. The truth was he was so relieved to have his home life returning to a semblance of normal (relatively speaking, of course) that not much would ruin his mood for some time to come. Of course his partner recognized this.

"Nick, Nick, Nick, you have the light of your life alive and in one piece, what more could you want?" and with a wink he added, "And Maura's on the mend too."

Nick tried to smirk but the smile won out. "Yeah, we found a therapist she'll tolerate and she's even on the verge of admitting it's helping her sort things out." Aristotle had tracked down the elusive Otto Brinkmeyer, who Maura found just acerbic and practical enough to explore her "inner landscape" with. It was hard, but it was happening. As for his own potholed inner landscape, he'd navigate that later.

"Well speaking as your nearly-late partner I say that can't come soon enough." If wishes were horses, Don Schanke would be able to outrace the dreams that had plagued him lately, dreams that woke him in a sweat but evaporated before he could grasp them. Never had there been a worse time for mindless drudgery. Schanke craved a demanding case that would occupy his mind and exhaust him for sleep.

They were about to return to their keyboards, grudgingly, when Nick's desk phone rang.

"Knight. Sure, be right there." He hung up and rose from his chair. "Be right back. The captain wants to see me." As he headed toward the office he missed the knowing smile that followed him.

"Detective, I'm sure you know the Toronto Police Civilian Bravery Awards are coming up in a few weeks."

"Sure, captain. Are you looking for presenters?" It was sometimes a chore to find anyone, uniform or detective, willing to stand up in front of the "city fathers" and other bureaucratic movers and shakers even if it was to bestow honors upon civilian heroes. Between thirty and forty civilians were so honored each year for courageous acts in support of the police and their fellow citizens.

Cohen shook her head with a smile. "I think we have that covered in this case. I just thought you'd like to know that Maura Logue is this year's recipient in our precinct. I don't think you need to ask why, or who her presenter will be."

Nick sat back and grinned broadly. "I just left him cursing his computer. So did you want me to give Maura the happy news?"

"No need, the award letters were mailed out on Friday. It should be in your mailbox today. I just thought it might be wise to let you know before your partner had a stroke from the effort of keeping the secret."

"I appreciate it, thanks. He did look a little bulging around the eyes for the past few days." Nick paused then, his smile tempered by other knowledge as the captain continued.

"Well he _was_ the first to offer her name in nomination, not that anyone is surprised. In the detective division the votes were unanimous. I have to admit I exerted what personal influence on my colleagues, though they didn't need much convincing to thank the woman who saved the life of someone in our own precinct. Official invitations will be sent to the honorees of course. I do hope Maura will be able to convince Ms. DuCharme to do without her for one Saturday night."

"I'm sure Janette would be glad to give her the night off." What Nick didn't say was that he wasn't so sure that Maura would be as eager to accept the award as his commander and partner were to give it.

* * *

Maura's therapy with Dr. Otto Brinkmeyer had begun just two weeks after she shot Jerry Remillard dead. In typical fashion (for Community members, in any case) intake consisted not of filling out of forms but taking of blood, drawn by clinical means but consumed in traditional fashion for one of Brinkmeyer's nature. Though Maura hadn't quite known what to expect, she wasn't unnerved by this, or by his explanation. 

"Blood doesn't lie," he'd told her before he drank, "and gives me a unique advantage over my mortal colleagues. It leaves no room for concealment."

Maura understood that while taking her blood didn't allow Brinkmeyer to read her mind, it did give him a full picture of her experience and its effect on her. The purpose of their sessions was to enable her to understand those effects and accept even the most dark experiences as something that need not overcome her. Not so different from a mortal shrink, she figured, though he seemed very much more grounded in logic than the usual run of the mill therapist. She had, of course, inquired after his methodology (apart from the obvious).

"Freudian won't do a thing for me," she declared as the grey-haired gentleman in the opposite offered a patient smile.

"I assure you, my 'methodology' encompasses any and all approaches that might apply, in a variety of combinations."

"Sounds like you make it up as you go along."

He shrugged mildly. "You never know what will work until you try it. Now why don't you tell me what demons this unfortunate experience has brought forth to disrupt the life you wish to have, and we will find a way to wrestle them into submission."

"You're not going to encourage me to 'embrace' them, or 'cohabit peacefully' with them?"

"Oh my, no. Demons are for casting out, my dear. They have no acceptable place in your life."

Maura laughed, the first honest laughter that had escaped her in some time. "I bet you expect me to find that ironic."

"Anyone who found that ironic would never have chosen to live among us. Now don't you think it's time to stop hiding behind banter and make use of our time together?" He didn't have to glance at the empty blood sample flask to emphasize the point.

"Right. That's why I'm here, I guess."

They went on from there. This week, even as Captain Cohen was informing Nick of her upcoming award, Maura was struggling to explain to Brinkmeyer why she simply couldn't even think of accepting it. She didn't even want to acknowledge the announcement she'd received in that morning's mail. Around and around they went, Brinkmeyer leading with logic and Maura debating with doubt.

"I think it didn't matter if I knew his gun was loaded or not. I'd have pulled the trigger either way. And the only way I could deserve this kind of attention is if I did it for Schanke, and not for what Jerry did to me."

Brinkmeyer smiled, barely, as if she'd spoken words he'd been waiting to hear. "Perhaps that knowledge isn't the most important. It could be that what is most important is that you know that even a selfish act can achieve an unselfish end."

"You mean like my shooting Jerry in a blind rage saved Schanke's life."

"As you say he saved yours, the night he and Nicholas found you in that motel."

"It's not the same."

Shaking his head, he inquired, "And what makes the two different?" Before she could answer he told her, "Motivation, you will say. Yes, whatever motivated Detective Schanke to do what he could to keep you alive was undoubtedly different than what motivated you to shoot his – and _your_ – would-be killer. The end result was the same… a life saved. In one case at the expense of another who had become motivated entirely by greed."

"So you're saying the difference doesn't matter. I killed someone because I was flipped out and Schanke was just saved by coincidence, but that's not supposed to be any different from him flipping out to keep me alive."

"What I'm saying is that in terms of mortal behavior, motivation loses significance after the fact. It is like an adverb without an action, meaningless. Yet you give it an unworthy power over you, and allow it to overwhelm the significance of the 'coincidental' act whose absence would have done profound damage to others."

She was running out of corners to hide in. It made sense in her brain but she continued to keep the understanding at arm's length, to Brinkmeyer's obvious frustration.

"You are missing the point at nearly every turn. This is no longer about you. It is now about those whose lives you kept intact by your act that some call bravery. Some think of it as reflex. You think of it as revenge." Brinkmeyer regarded Maura for a moment. "You are aware of the Chinese belief that once you have saved a man's life you are responsible for him forever?"

She eyed him suspiciously. This guy was a master of the loaded question and the unassailable answer. "What's that supposed to mean? I have to carry Schanke now for the rest of his life?"

Suddenly the vampire therapist's philosophical demeanor evaporated and a sterner persona emerged. "It _means_ that dozens of people have been catering to your every need before and since your return from near-death. It's time you did the same for them." He was a compassionate man as a mortal and as ethical a vampire as was possible, but dealing with the woefully limited perspective of mortality had never been his strong suit. He did, however, see light beginning to dawn in this one, however grudgingly. Were she not attached to Nicholas Knight, and by proxy Aristotle, he would have abandoned this venture after the first session. This woman clung to her narrow notions as if they were life itself.

"Good. Is it becoming clear now? Those around you are also recovering from a trauma that has affected them in their way as much as it did you. Part of that recovery, and return to 'normalcy' is the opportunity to acknowledge anything positive that can balance the near-loss of a father, friend, and colleague. It will also help you balance the memory of both these traumatic experiences that have been disrupting your life and relationships."

Maura merely sighed, and at last Brinkmeyer exploded.

"For pity's sake woman, stop being so bloody self-centered! You mortals have such a minute time on earth, and you waste it on endless ruminations about things that frankly do not matter."

"Well it matters to me, okay? Never mind my minute time on earth, _right now_ I'm gonna have to stand up in front of a bunch of people, including plenty of strangers who'll be there just for the photo op, who'll be waving around one of the most abused words in the English language. They just don't understand what happened to me _or_ Schanke and they're pasting all sorts stock adjectives on it that they only think they understand. I don't _feel_ like a hero, not their definition anyway. And I don't think he does either. What we went through in that motel room and in that garage, aside from all the leftover angst, it's more than that. Nothing we did was 'above and beyond' anything. Our brains went dead and something else took over."

"And what do you think that might be?"

She thought for a minute. "Friendship? Love, maybe, or the strength of our connection to the same person?" Suddenly she laughed, remembering what Schanke said in the hospital. "Donnie said Nick needs a tag team to keep him in line and we both need to stay on the job "

"Well, then. You'll have the full attention of a captive audience. Why don't you explain that to them? After all, they're only trying to say 'thank you'." He said these things as if explaining to a child.

"Oh. I never really thought of it that way." Maura shifted sheepishly. "I guess I make things too hard sometimes, huh?"

Brinkmeyer raised his hands in the air as if praising… well, whoever he might praise for such a breakthrough.

"Congratulations, Ms. Logue, you have just cast out your first demon."


	2. Cautious silence

Nick wasn't surprised to find the loft dark when he got home, even though it was only a little after two. It had been less than a month since he and Schanke had recovered Maura, and maybe three weeks since the violent end of Jerry Remillard. This would have been her third session with Brinkmeyer, and given her native difficulty with digging too deeply into herself the meetings took a lot out of her. While Brinkmeyer maintained the same professional guidelines as any other legitimate therapist, he did comment to Nick that Maura's progress would be a challenge. No surprise to anyone there. He'd tried not ask his old friend questions, he really didn't want to invade her privacy, but Nick couldn't quite let go of he idea that if he gained the same knowledge of her that Brinkmeyer had, it would speed recovery for both of them.

Something about Maura was shrouded from Nick since her ordeal. He couldn't define it and wasn't certain she could have either. It was the part of her she was trying to regain, he supposed, the finding of herself that she promised would find him as well. He knew this experience had changed her, how could it not? He knew, also, that his eyes had been opened to some things he'd never considered.

Nick struggled to make sense of the sudden, intense connection between Maura and Schanke. What had happened at that motel, what significance was there that he hadn't seen or heard himself? He thought that she'd share it in time, or maybe Schanke would, and at the time in the hospital he figured if they didn't, well it didn't matter. But it did matter to Nick, just as it mattered to him that Maura would so quickly accept a past lover as a friend simply by virtue of his re-appearance. Just as it had mattered that the loss of Christopher Martin could completely shatter her, where she'd recovered from Nick's abandonment by simply starting a new life without him. There was something that joined her to these people, and the ache it triggered in Nick had nothing to do with male jealousy but was rooted in a more complex kind of envy. Even though she chose to be with him and live among his kind, what joined Maura to these three was the same thing that separated her from him. Perhaps the _only_ thing. It was what kept him from understanding her completely, and it had never been more apparent to him than now. He hated realizing he resented it, and he hated wanting to read the rest of her diary to learn the things she couldn't ever explain to him because of the indefinable space between them. A space too small to be measured easily in words spoken aloud, but impossible to ignore: the space of a human breath and heartbeat.

It didn't help that their accustomed intimacy hadn't resumed. They were close, yes, but not consumed by blood and passion, not since she'd come back. Nick knew it was unwise and unfair to rush such things; there were some delicate matters Maura had to settle within herself before the former heat of their physical relationship returned. She needed him, he knew, his affection and touch and she loved him as before. But he sensed the invisible defenses were there, as formidable as his own were before she'd broken through so long ago. Words, his knowledge of her now depended entirely upon words and the interpretation of her heartbeat and breath sounds, no blood to inform him and no utterly perfect joining to erase his doubts. How did mortals do it, he couldn't even remember, how did they maintain that link without the depth of sharing he and Maura had developed between them? They were, both of them, much too accomplished at keeping their own counsel to rely upon words alone, but now words were all they had, at least until their deepest physical bond was rekindled and thus their connection complete once more. Nick's fear was that in the meantime she'd find so much commonality with her fellow mortals that she'd forget what she'd found with him. He felt selfish and stupid yet the feelings remained and couldn't find the voice to express them. Maura found her voice with Brinkmeyer, however reluctantly, but otherwise kept those thoughts to herself. They were so cautious with each other, she and Nick, so closely guarded lest they press the other too hard, that they risked drifting apart without a struggle.

Maura stirred in her sleep and reached for Nick, but found his side of the bed empty. Odd, she felt he was nearby; they'd been together long enough that she didn't need to share his immortal senses to know. When she opened her eyes she saw him, sitting in the seldom-used velvet side chair, minus his jacket but otherwise still dressed from work. His cuffs were rolled back, his collar loosened, and the light from the bedside candle made the fine hair on his arms shimmer lightly. He was looking at her. No, he was looking _into_ her, or trying to.

"Bats, you okay?"

"Yeah. Just unwinding."

But he usually did that by reading, either downstairs or lounging beside her in bed.

She stretched a little, rolled back and pulled at the covers. "Come to bed, huh? Must be late."

"In a bit. It's just three." His blue eyes were dark in the candlelight. He continued to look at Maura. Into her.

"Something's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?" She struggled upright, rubbing her eyes and leaning forward to underline the question.

Now was his chance. She was asking him, she wanted to know, he could ask any question here in the dark, in the space where they were always and only themselves, he could ask her anything and he knew she'd try to answer him. He smiled just a little, noticing how much of her former sleepy softness had replaced the ragged edge of her recent nighttime fears. She looked as she always did when she woke as he came to bed. She always halfway-woke and reached for him no matter how quiet he was. Maybe he was being too Byronesque. Suddenly it seemed a foolish thing to disturb her with now, when she seemed so close to becoming whole again. There was time, his questions could wait until hers were settled. Nick managed to persuade himself to silence just as Maura managed to find the courage to break it.

Nick also managed not to notice Maura's subtle, bewildered frown as he told her, "It's nothing, Sweet, I'm fine. Let me get changed and you can tell me how tonight went." He rose and went to his dressing room.

She'd been ready to tell him, really tell him, about how the power of her unnamable connection with his partner left her with so many questions and frustrations. She was ready to tell Nick what she'd told Brinkmeyer tonight, all of it, and not care that it might concern him because he wouldn't know how to help make it better right away. She was ready to admit she owed him that, the right to be concerned – a whole lot less than the frantic worry he'd endured a short while ago – because he loved her so much. She'd thought for a moment that he was ready, too, the way he sat there watching her as if he could hardly contain the questions he had, the ones she'd be grateful to hear even if she couldn't answer them. Then the moment passed, and she lost her nerve.

So when Nick returned in smooth garnet silk and slid into bed to hold her she simply told him, "I'm a little weird about that letter, you know the one, I'm sure the captain and Schanke told you. Brinkmeyer said I'm making it too hard. He says I should just let people say thank you and not be 'so bloody self-centered'." Nick bristled internally at that, even as he realized the difference between "selfishness" and being so centered _within_ oneself it obscured everything else. He said nothing, though, just hugged her a little tighter and kissed her hair.

Ignoring the detail of her debate with Brinkmeyer, of her real difficulty, Maura kept her account brief and superficial. She didn't want to worry Nick with the painful process because he'd want so badly to help. There was time to address the details when they were clearer to her, when he needn't concern himself with helping her navigate them. She knew he could understand it all if only they could find that complete connection again, but here it was nearly new moon and not a glimmer of gold in his eyes. Why didn't he seem to want that closeness? She didn't want to make an issue of it; she knew he was being cautious because of what she'd been through so she was cautious in return, not wanting to trigger whatever guilt was always so near the surface. Unlike their first encounter, when she'd been determined to prove him wrong, this time Maura decided not to push. He'd been through so much, they both had, better to let things rest for a bit.

"He's right, of course, about letting people say thank you. But if you decide not to go, that's okay too." Nick kissed her again, lips sweetly pressing hers. Sweet, but cautious.

The link they'd felt so soon after meeting was still there, but it was as if they were getting to know each other all over again. Maybe they were returning to that, maybe that was what all this horror had changed. Maybe they'd slid from fierce connection to cautious engagement, at least for now. Still Maura wished Nick would debate her, convince her as Brinkmeyer did, say what she needed to know instead of what she wanted to hear. And she wanted to hear his questions, then if they couldn't answer them, even together, at least they'd be out in the open. Keeping them to himself wasn't lying, exactly, it was… she didn't know what.

Finally Nick and Maura slept, still believing themselves to be guarding each other's feelings, the cautious silence between them a separation that Lucien LaCroix would once have been proud to engender.


	3. Beyond words

For the first time in recent memory, Nick woke alone. Always the earliest riser, his hunger-driven wakening typically found him slipping from bed careful not to wake Maura. The need for blood was as regular as a mortal alarm clock, and it broke his slumber in as regular a fashion. For nearly three years the pattern had been written in stone: disengage carefully from the sleeping Maura, and glide down to the kitchen to open his first bottle of the day.

Except for this day, when his hunger woke him to an otherwise empty bed. Quick inspection revealed Maura had already risen and dressed, and obviously left the loft to pursue whatever was on her agenda. That agenda had become a mystery to Nick, as had many things about her.

He found a note pinned to the refrigerator.

"Things to do, people to see. Love, M."

What had she ever had to do and whom did she ever have to see before noon on _any_ morning? Except, he remembered, for the day the phone woke them both early and she left soon after with Jerry Remillard. Stop, he berated himself, Remillard is dead and Maura is struggling to get past the whole incident. If this is the worst break in pattern, so what. The mysteries of Maura Logue used to intrigue and attract him; now they filled him with confusion and worry.

* * *

The coffee shop was all but deserted. After all, it was 9 am on a Saturday morning, when most people in Toronto were sleeping off Friday's socializing and trying to remember who they were waking up next to. 

"I'm sorry, Donnie, I know it's an unholy hour to drag you out of bed."

True enough, but when Maura had called Don Schanke hadn't hesitated a moment before agreeing to meet her, telling Myra he had something important to follow up on. Truer still.

"No sorry needed, here, it's early for you too," and she took the paper cup of double strong black French roast he pushed across the café table and took a gulp or two before speaking.

"You know why I called you."

"I think so. You've been having them too, right?"

She wasn't sure what he was talking about. "Having them?"

"The dreams. About fighting, dragging each other away from… I don't know what. I don't know what they mean, but I wake up every night from them."

"No, actually, I haven't had those kind of dreams. Mine are more a replay of what happened, the stuff I couldn't remember at first and now I can't forget. The gun going off, Jerry leaning down and me pointing your gun at him, and there it goes into slow-mo. I hear the hammer go down, so slow the chamber echoes, and I hear the grind of the trigger being pulled again, and that big long echo again, and when I point your gun at him it takes forever and he's just standing there looking at me, every shot – how many shots were there? – every shot takes a lifetime and _echoes_, like a record album being held back."

"You emptied my piece, fifteen rounds. All dead center." Schanke wasn't trying to sound congratulatory. He knew she'd never fired a weapon in her life, and it was close range rather than skill that kept her from shooting wild. Bad enough when a cop had to shoot someone, but a civilian… the look on her face made him regret reminding her of what she'd read in the forensics reports.

"And after that," she trailed off, covering her discomfort by swilling more coffee. "I don't remember anything but thinking you were dying and that if I yelled loud enough at you you'd have to come back."

Schanke couldn't help but smile. "You say that like it's a bad thing. Believe me, I appreciate the gesture even if I _wasn't_ dying."

Suddenly Maura drained her cup. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called you. It's just that, I dunno, after what happened, you know, in the motel and in the garage, I'm thinking you're the only one who could understand."

Brow knit in a puzzled frown, Schanke waited for more. Nothing at first, but he saw her hands shaking so badly he reached out and took them in his own. "It's okay, sweetheart, whatever it is you just say it. You're right, whatever happened with us lately seems to have written a whole new phrasebook or something."

Maura gulped a breath. "Donnie _why_ did you have to recommend me for this fucking award?" she burst out, pulling her hands away. She sat back, knowing her expression was as angry as her words sounded.

"Huh?" He was stunned. "You saved my life, you thought fast and you saved us _both_. Excuse me for being an old fashioned cop but I kind of thought that deserved a little recognition."

"But it feels so _wrong_, I see his face at night, he was so surprised, like he finally figured out how badly he'd fucked up, but it was too late, two empty chambers and fifteen rounds too late, it's all I _see_. Nobody knows, nobody has figured it out, I had to keep you from dying after I shot him because if you didn't die it would mean I didn't blow him away just for payback. It's the only way it makes sense."

Maura's agitation was still confusing Schanke, but he could tell at least that it was real, not based in the unraveling logic that had plagued her for so long after her rescue. He pried up one of her hands where it was pressed flat on the table as if she were trying to hold everything in the world in place.

"Maura, honey, we _would_ have died if you hadn't done it. He'd have picked up my gun and done us both. _That's_ maybe the only thing that has to make sense."

"You don't know that." It was barely a whisper. "I knew him, even as sick as he'd gotten, I _knew_ him. Jerry was all about opportunity. He'd have dropped that empty gun and tried to work his scam."

Now Schanke echoed her words. "You don't know that." She stared back stubbornly, and he shook the hand he held as if it could make her listen to reason. "How can you believe that? He'd killed _three_ _people_, Maura, two of them supposedly his friends. And those are only the ones we know about. He almost killed you, and you two used to be in love." She was shaking her head.

"No, _I _used to be in love. He was just… doing research. So you see how out of joint it is?" She tightened her fingers around his, "He never really loved me, but he wasn't trying to kill me. I used to love him, and I _did_ kill him."

Schanke reached one hand out to brush the gathering tears from her face. "Honey," he told her gently, "he didn't _care_ if he killed you, and he had nothing to lose if he did. You know that's the truth. What you did saved us both. There's a big difference."

"Then what does it mean, any of it? The dreams you're having, the ones I'm having, what made us grab each other by the throat and not let go?"

Schanke's smile returned, and he tapped Maura's chin with a fingertip. "What does it have to mean? Okay, maybe it 'means' we love the same lunatic cop enough to make sure he doesn't lose either one of us. I got a pretty ugly glimpse of what would happen to Nick if he really did lose you. I don't ever want see anything like it again, or feel that useless."

"I don't want to know what he'd be like if you were suddenly gone," Maura confessed. She heaved a sigh, suddenly worn out by the emotional upheaval. "I think I keep waiting for everything to add up and make sense, but it never does, does it?"

Schanke sat back and laughed. "You said a mouthful, sister. Now why don't you just relax and let me say thank you the way I want? After all you did call me a motherfucker donut sucking bastard when I was down."

"Yeah, well…" Maura was forced to answer the smile of her "partner's partner" with one of her own. "I've been seeing this shrink, you know? Nick found one I could sit still with for an hour without laughing in his face or stomping out the door. And he said I don't need to freak out over this award thing, I just need to explain to everyone that there's more behind it than killing someone. He says all you're doing is trying to say thank you."

The characteristic Schanke half-respectful smirk returned. "Sounds like wisdom for the ages."

"You have _no _idea."

With nothing – and everything – settled, Schanke drove Maura back to the loft. When she didn't get out right away, he cut the engine. "Something wrong at home?"

She shrugged, squirmed a little. "Not exactly. Nick's a little funny… like there's things he wants to say, or ask, but he's keeping them to himself."

Schanke's eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "Imagine that. Couldn't be that _you've_ been out-clamming the clam up artist too, as if that were possible?" She didn't respond.

"Did you tell Nick why you were going out?"

"I left him a note."

"Full of details, right." Schanke just stared at her for a minute, then demanded, "So tell me since when did the two most telepathically linked people I ever met suddenly cut the string between their tin cans?"

"Since when do you have the right to comment on our private life?" Maura couldn't quite pull off the indignant response.

"Since you dragged me out of bed at the crack of dawn, that's since when. And _he_ might be able to get away with that 'how dare you' stuff," here Schanke jerked a thumb toward the loft windows, "but _you_ don't stand a chance."

"And what gives you the right with me you don't have with him?"

All trace of humor left Schanke's eyes as he told her, "A blacked-out motel room and a garage floor, that's what. Now go home and explain to my partner why you're getting out of my unmarked because we both know he's watching. And try to keep a lid on your angst at the awards ceremony."

She stopped halfway out the car door. "What makes you so sure I'm gonna be there?"

Nothing but full-bore Schanke smug answered her. "You'll be there. How else you gonna get the last word?"

He pulled away so fast the door handle was jerked from Maura's hand, and the door slammed shut by itself.

* * *

Maura took a deep breath as she unlocked the back door. If she could debate with Brinkmeyer and vent with Schanke, it was high time she quit being cautiously silent with Nick, who was more deeply connected with her than anyone. As she ventured into the loft, her home, Maura was surprised by silence. She'd expected to hear the music that Nick found solace in, when solace was beyond his reach. She'd promised him when she found herself she'd find him too but all she'd offered were words, empty and false. Words were what had failed them most often, what they'd never been best at when it came to their innermost struggles. She didn't need them anymore, she decided not here, where they were always and only themselves. She turned off lights as she progressed to the stairs, the tightly closed shutters removing any reminder of daylight. In the darkness the familiarity of home guided her as perfectly as any vampire senses. She knew where he'd be. 

Pushing open the bedroom door, she saw him much as he'd been last night when she woke wondering why things weren't as they should be. Nick was seated in the side chair, staring at the empty bed, the bedside candle making his silken pajamas shimmer like dark blood.

"Nick."

He looked at her as if in surprise, jarred from the privacy of everything he hadn't said. "Maura… we need to talk. I need to,"

She went to him quickly, knelt in front of him and pressed fingers to his lips.

"No, no more words. I have to find so many words, for Brinkmeyer, for everyone, I'm tired of words. You and me, we're no good with words anymore, are we? We hide behind them, we use them like tools, to build walls and masks. We used to be better than that." Maura stretched up between his knees to reach for him, she could see he was crying. He'd been so far from her, she'd kept him there with words or with their absence. She didn't mean to, she didn't want to, she wouldn't, not anymore.

"Ssh, don't cry, mon coeur," she kissed the tears and tasted blood, but didn't care. If his blood were his pain she was glad it was escaping.

"Sweet," he began but she shushed him with kisses.

"No more words, no more."

He lifted her with him as he rose, hovering above the carpet, floating to the bed. The bloodstained blue of his eyes, the color of pain, warmed to deep pulsing gold, the color of love. I love you, they didn't say the words but it was all that could be heard in the dark where they were always and only themselves, beyond words. Maura pulled Nick's mouth to hers, then to her throat, wanting beyond wanting to restore the connection that she'd been backing away from, knowing it went far deeper than any passion their bodies could otherwise express. Nick kissed her, and drank, and knew everything again. She held him, eyes closed, her own tears dried by his fingers tracing her face as he kissed, and drank, and she knew everything as well. Words were weak, they were nothing. What they were together was everything and where it started was here, in the power of a shared heartbeat.


	4. Words

The words came later. They always did, no matter how either of them denied the necessity. After the sharing, after the blood and mortal lovemaking and after the joining that combined both, after the sleep that blanked out all doubts and fears, after even the three simplest most expressive yet inadequate thoughts that needed no verbal expression: "I love you", the words came.

"I didn't love him, not anymore. I'd lost that before I even came here, before I even left there. More than anything, I need you to know that."

"I know. More than anything, I need you to know that." He wasn't mocking her, that much was understood by both of them.

"God Nick, what I decided when I saw him again and we talked and he convinced me of so many lies, it had nothing to do with you. That's the worst part, because it should have. Suddenly all that mattered was _mea culpa_, what damage I thought I'd done and what careless pain I thought I'd inflicted, and whether or not it was true didn't matter a bit."

Nick shifted position reluctantly from where he lay against Maura's shoulder, spent from hours of mortal and immortal lovemaking. "I never thought you loved him, or even if you wondered if you did. I wondered about your mortality, and if what you had in common with someone you hadn't seen for years might be enough to tip the balance. Even if you didn't love him, even if you _hated_ him. He was mortal. Christopher was mortal. Schanke's mortal. _You're_ mortal. That's a connection more powerful than personal history."

"What do you mean 'tip the balance'? How could you think I'm on the edge of leaving you just because I have something in common with other people? It's not the mortality, Nick; it's lots of other things that make the connection." Maura meant every word she said, even if Nick felt the truth might be different.

Now Nick sat up against the headboard, one hand still tangled in Maura's hair. "I know that no matter how close we are there's something that will always divide us whether or not you want to admit it. There's something you have in common with so many others that will never connect us. Something elemental, and it's nobody's fault, but sometimes I wonder if it might draw you away the way my connection with my kind tries to draw me away."

Against all logic and awareness, the last statement stunned Maura. "Who's trying to 'draw me away'?" She sat up next to him now, their nakedness ignored, and looked at him as if they were facing each other in mid-conversation on the sofa downstairs. He shook his head sadly, and somehow that was worse than any name he might have mentioned.

"No, that's not what I mean. What I am, what you are, they're eternal connections to what we can never share. I'm not tempted to leave any more than you are. But we have to admit the division is there, we have to acknowledge it in the open if we're going to stop keeping the doubts to ourselves. We don't have to list them, do we? We know each other well enough to admit they're there."

Maura took a breath, thought for a moment. He was right, she knew it, but at the same time she knew that at least one of his conclusions was wrong. "Schanke, you mentioned Schanke." Nick nodded, silent. "You're right, he's mortal, and that's part of what connects us. But not all, not even most of it." She reached out then and pulled him to her, gripping her hand in his hair as he'd done to hers moments earlier. "Nick, Bats, when I went out this morning I met Donnie at the coffee shop. I was as confused about what was happening as you are, and so was he. But we figured it out, or he did before I did, what forged that iron-hard link between us is that we both are connected to you, _by_ you, love you so muchand needing to watch out for you and keep you safe from hurt and loss is what made us crazy to save each other. I understand what you're saying about that space between us, but it's not the biggest thing with Schanke and me. It must have hurt you double I know, thinking that mortality joined us and divides you and him like it divides you and me. But with him, anyway, our love for you is what tips the balance."

Just as Nick could feel the truth of what she said, just as he'd felt the truth of her denial of what separated them. He even smiled wryly as he understood the distinction Maura described, thinking of how Schanke would squirm at the way she'd just expressed it. "That explains a lot, and means even more. But can you understand the rest of what I said? Can you admit to yourself that there's at least the smallest risk that our differences might someday make the difference between being together and being apart?"

Maura looked away. She'd always wanted to believe that loving each other was enough, but love was nebulous and genetics were hardwired. Yes, she'd been drawn to Chris because they both had what she'd admitted even then was an "expiration date". But it didn't mean she loved Nick less, or that her life with him was something she could do without! Tears gathered in her eyes as she begged him, "Why can't we just agree to let it go, to ignore it? How can we let it be that important?"

It was every bit as hard for her as he'd expected, but Nick couldn't do as she asked. He kissed her gently, held her close against him and told her, "Because we can't 'let' it be anything, because it's as real as we are. It's as real as your need for sunshine, and my need for blood. We can't be together, not really, unless we can come to terms with that, because ignoring it is a lie. And we've never been good at lying to each other, not from the very beginning, only to ourselves."

Maura couldn't fight the tears any longer, as different from the post-trauma tears of the past weeks as her day was from his night, but not much more rational. "Why couldn't you tell me no? Why couldn't you tell me _don't_, don't go on that drive, don't listen to him, don't pay attention to the past when it's the present that matters? I've told _you_ that often enough!" His gentle attempt to persuade her to stay closeby and be more wary had magically disappeared from her memory.

Nick didn't know how to comfort her, as much as he wanted to. "I didn't tell you those things because it wasn't my right to say 'do' or 'don't'. It will never be. I _love_ you, Sweet, I don't own you. If I ever thought I did you'd have been gone a long time ago, we both know that."

"I know that, I know," she sobbed against his shoulder, "it's not your fault, none of it."

"Ssh," he soothed, "it's nobody's fault. It just is. We are who we are, Maura, we're not perfect. Maybe less perfect than most." He felt her settle against him, as her weeping subsided. Of all the things about her that could overwhelm him, her tears led the list.

Finally she lifted her head and looked him in the eye. "Nick I know I haven't been good at letting you help, even at letting you know what _might_ help. I don't want to add to the load you pile on yourself." He began to protest but she silenced him with a kiss, then "No, okay, don't tell me I'm wrong. Just listen; because I'm finally going to tell you what I think will help. I know it'll be hard, and might cause some problems at work, but I think I need to go away for awhile." Nick looked stricken, and she hastened to add, "No, Bats, I mean _us_. I need for us to go away somewhere nobody knows us, nobody expects anything, somewhere we can learn to be together without all the outside pulling to this and pushing to that. It's not that all that stuff will go away, but I think if we can go somewhere for a while and just learn to be ourselves together we can get better at dealing with it, see? Kind of like working out helps you get stronger, it doesn't make the hard work go away but you get better at doing it. Does that make sense?" She so desperately wanted it to. "I think it'll help me get myself back, myself as I should be now not as I used to be. We're different people now, Nick, different than we were before I came here, but we never have time to figure out who that _is_." She huffed a deep breath. "I'm different than I was before Jerry took me away to that place. I don't think I can ever figure out how to be normal again unless I can do it somewhere where nobody expects me to be anything I was before." Realizing she was probably beginning to ramble, Maura slid back down in bed and curled up on her side facing away from Nick.

"I'm sorry I don't know how to make sense of it. Even if it's not fair to ask it's less fair not to let you know. I promised you that when I found myself again I'd find you too, and if I'm going to do that I've got to tell you everything that's going on inside because everything about me includes you." In scarcely a heartbeat Nick, gathering her back against him and turning her so she could see his face, surrounded her again. Miracle of miracles, he was smiling.

"Do you know how long I've waited to hear you say that? As often as I felt inside I should be insisting and asking, making you tell me exactly what you felt and wanted, I was more afraid I'd drive you away if I did. It wasn't just you, I decided that silence was safer, but it's not." He hugged her tightly and whispered in her ear, "We'll go away, Sweet, if that's what you need, what _we_ need, then that's what we'll do."

After a length of silence punctuated only by Maura's breathing, Nick took a chance and said what he'd been keeping inside since she'd been taken. "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. I'm sorry you lay in the dark and thought you'd die alone, I'd have done anything to spare you that."

She was shaken by his words because he was right, as she lay dying in the dark she couldn't understand why Nick wasn't there to save her, couldn't hear her needing him, begging him to make it stop.

"I was hoping so _hard_," she confessed painfully, "I thought maybe you could find me just because, you know, because you loved me, and I couldn't understand why that wasn't enough to make you appear right away. All I wanted was for you to come and take me home, you have such powers to know and see and do things, and I couldn't understand why they couldn't help me."

"If they could have, none of it would ever have happened."

Quiet again, Nick thought she'd fallen asleep until he heard her barely whisper, "You'll tell me if you think it's not fair, wanting you to come away, I know it's harder for you than me. You'll tell me, won't you? I don't think we can survive any more secrets, so you have to tell me."

He hugged her closer, and kissed the face she'd turned to his. "No, Sweet, no more secrets, go to sleep now. Sleep now, plans later, okay?"

"'kay," she murmured vaguely, clearly fading. "I love you, Nicolas de Brabant."

"And oh, how I love you, Maura Logue," Nick told her quietly, but she was already asleep. For the first time in a long time it didn't take him long to join her.


	5. Hope and reality

"See? I told you, nobody's going to be crowding you." Nick patted Maura's hand where she clung to his arm. Two days of getting used to the idea and she still was edgy about the whole thing, though as she scanned the convention hall she had to admit he was right. She was only one of fifteen award recipients, and each one had their friends and family with them and plenty of room to call their own. "Come on, there's the captain." He straightened his arm and caught her hand when it dropped. "I promise, nobody will bite," then he leaned close and whispered, "Not til we get home anyway." Finally this elicited a smirk.

"Ha, ha." But she was relaxing bit by bit. Another last-minute session with Brinkmeyer had helped Maura realize that this award, this "thank you" as he encouraged her to call it, had been blown out of proportion in her mind. She wasn't being rewarded for killing someone, or even for saving someone. She was being thanked for trying when she could have run. And she _could_ have run, after that first empty click from Jerry's gun, she could have run like hell since she figured Schanke was as good as dead, and nobody would have blamed her. It's not as if she decided one way or another, but in the end Brinkmeyer got her to admit it didn't matter. It happened like it happened, and good came from bad. She knew he was right, but it still took some effort to remind herself.

* * *

"I can't shake the little voice that tells me I did something wrong," Maura confided to Nick the night before the event as they went over the program that had been mailed to her along with her official invitation.

"Then ignore it until it goes away. You're pretty good at that when other things annoy you," he told her firmly. When his suggestion was greeted by an uncertain frown as she rose to go upstairs, he pulled her into his lap.

"Listen to me, and listen hard. The two most important people in my life are still here with me because of what you did. That _makes_ it right." She dropped her head to his shoulder.

"Okay, okay. It's just taking awhile to internalize it."

Nick couldn't stifle a chuckle. "So Brinkmeyer's converted you to shrinkspeak. I'll have to remember to congratulate him for such an astounding accomplishment. Ouch!" he exclaimed as Maura twisted his earlobe. Her take-no-shit attitude had returned to some extent, anyway, and that was a huge relief. The idea of going away hadn't been discussed in depth yet, but the fact of Nick's agreement released an unnamable weight from Maura. The details they could work out later.

* * *

Maura smiled and shook hands with this police official and that city councilor as Captain Cohen introduced her to the organizers of the annual event. Schanke was nowhere to be seen.

"I think he's going over his notes," the captain suggested, and Maura gave Nick a nervous look. She'd thought she and Schank had come to some sort of understanding and now she was worried he was being swept into the mainstream with so many others. She knew it wasn't up to her to interpret this kind of thing for the other honorees, but for herself, and she'd thought for Schanke too, it was something they'd settled on together.

Let him say thank you, she told herself sharply. He's earned the right to say _anything_. Brinkmeyer was right; she had to stop being so bloody self-centered. The only reason she was alive to whine about the "wrong sort" of attention was that Donnie had held her back from the edge first. Let this be _his_ award, then, she decided. The opportunity to say and do whatever he needed to say that would make it right for him.

The room was arranged by precincts, with recipients seated at tables among those who'd nominated them. At their table were some detectives Maura recognized, though their names escaped her, and Natalie and Grace, and of course Myra Schanke. Myra rose as Nick and Maura approached with Captain Cohen, greeting Nick with a kiss and Maura with a fierce hug.

"I have nothing to say that makes any sense," Myra Schanke told the woman who'd saved her husband's life.

"Trust me, I hear you," Maura replied, "but I hope it's not true for me when I get up there." Every recipient was expected to say at least a sentence or two.

"Buck up," Natalie told Maura as she and Nick sat down, "after what you've been through this should be a breeze." When Maura shuddered and rolled her eyes Natalie continued, "And if you can't dazzle 'em with eloquence, baffle 'em with bullshit." Finally Maura laughed, feeling at home among the people she'd come to know as real friends albeit under some pretty challenging circumstances.

Grace greeted her energetically with the sly suggestion, "If you get nervous," indicating the various dignitaries in the front tables, "just picture 'em naked."

"C'mon Grace," Myra cautioned, "She wants to relax, not throw up."

Maura was listed in the program roughly halfway through the evening. She sat transfixed through the stories of people, all sorts of people, who had intervened between police officers and death in endlessly varied circumstances. A mentally retarded man in a coffee shop had called for backup from his cell phone when officers, one wounded and another pinned down by gang gunfire, were unable to reach their radios. A boy, no more than thirteen Maura guessed, had managed to beat a drug dealer's attack dog off of a narcotics officer. Both officer and rescuer bore the scars of the struggle. A single mother had dragged a cop from his burning, overturned unit after a high speed chase ended in a crash. All of them had done the unexpected and unimaginable and had saved the lives of people better trained and armed than they were. As if he could read her mind in addition to her heartbeat, Nick took Maura's hand under the table and squeezed it as her turn approached. He knew, without benefit of vampire perception, that she felt that any of these people were more deserving of the overworked term "hero" than she was. Their acts were unrelated to their own emotional baggage. They had simply done the right thing, or the impossible thing, for reasons even they couldn't explain. But she was betting they had no darker motivations to argue with.

Finally Schanke rushed to their table from wherever he'd been. And yes, Maura noticed him stuffing a folded sheet of paper into his pocket as he sat down barely in time for Captain Cohen to give her little speech as head of her division, and introduce Detective Donald Schanke as the presenter of the award. When he got to the microphone, he pulled out the paper from his pocket and held it as if for display.

"I figured I'd write a little speech for tonight, something special for the occasion, because I figured it was important to say everything that would make you all understand exactly what happened and what it means to me." Maura held her breath. Then he surprised her, but not really, by tearing the sheet of paper in two and stuffing the pieces back in his pocket. "Well, I was wrong."

Nick leaned into Maura's ear and whispered, "I'm so glad the press is here for this." When she shook him off with a scowl he realized this was the wrong time to play wiseass, and returned his attention to his partner. Schanke was, he noticed, far more eloquent than usual.

"Because you know what? No matter what everyone has said and will say here tonight, no matter how many amazing stories you hear and how many grateful people still are here by the grace of somebody else, the only ones who _really_ understand are the ones who pulled each other back from the edge. I'm alive and here tonight because my partner's partner," here he winked at his table, "was able to take care of me when I couldn't do it myself. She says her brain shut off, and I believe her. I believe her because I saw at least part of it, and let me tell you when this woman's on automatic pilot you do _not_ want to mess with her. If you don't believe me you can ask _her _partner, Detective Nick Knight." A laugh rippled through the hall as Schanke's eyes, and smile, settled on Maura. He held the elegant award plaque in one hand, and read aloud: "'The Toronto Metropolitan Police Department and the City of Toronto express their deepest gratitude and appreciation to Maura Logue for her courageous actions in protecting the life of Police Detective Donald Schanke. When our civilian citizens protect and serve, it is never less than above and beyond the call of duty.' My wife Myra and daughter Jenny wanted to add some sentiments of their own, but they would've had to erect a whole new wing for the plaque." With everyone looking at her, Maura stayed glued to her chair until Schanke urged, "So whaddaya say, Maura Logue, why don't you come on up here and let me thank my Guardian Amazon in public and on the record. You know what for, and with all due respect to everyone else you're the only one that matters."

When he put the plaque down and held his hands out, Nick gave Maura a gentle push. "Go on, Sweet, or we'll never get home tonight."

Maura rose awkwardly to the same warm applause as every other honoree had received, walking carefully among four or five tables and staring at her feet so she wouldn't trip like some dork. As she joined Schanke at the microphone he pulled something else out of his pocket.

"I'm bestowing a little award of my own," he explained as he held up what Maura saw was a small but very realistic donut except it was silver, and hung on a long red ribbon. "I bestow on you the MFDSB award," and he could see she knew exactly what it meant, but she wasn't laughing. "Don't ask," Schanke told the puzzled audience, "just know it means thank you." He looked Maura in the eye as he draped it dramatically around her neck, "_Thank you_, can you handle that??"

She nodded and managed "You're welcome, Donnie," as her eyes ran with tears she couldn't predict, much less control, and she clamped around Schanke's neck as he lifted her off the floor in a bear hug that nearly knocked the microphone over.

"You're welcome too," he said in her ear before letting her go and pointing her toward the mike. "Now say something profound," he instructed aloud.

"Uh, hmm." She hesitated, then picked up her award in one hand and lifted her silver donut in the other. "I bet everyone here who gets one of these," she held up the official award, "knows what really happened is more like _this_," she raised up the donut a little higher. "Detective Schanke is right, only the ones who pulled each other back from the edge really know what it means, and only if you're really lucky. I bet most of us are just glad that when our brains shut off our bodies were driven by our best intentions. I'd give anything to have this honor be unnecessary, but I'm glad I could do something worth saying 'thank you' for." She looked up at Schanke and asked, "Can I sit down now?" More laughter and applause from the audience as Schanke offered his arm and escorted her back to the table.

"See, that wasn't so bad was it?" Nick asked her. "Beaming with pride" was a savage understatement. Maura shot a look at Schanke, who was being fussed over by Myra.

"Nah, piece of cake." She caught Schanke's eye. "Like the song says, a walk through hell ain't bad compared to where we've been, huh Donnie?"

"You said a mouthful, sistah." He held up his hand, and Maura high-fived him across the table, and for reasons she'd never be able to explain every doubt and question fell away with the echo of their slapping palms.

"So does anybody mind my asking," Grace announced, "_what_ does 'MFDSB' mean?"

It was Nick who saved them. "I guess you had to be there."

The city had arranged a full evening of entertainment for the honorees, their loved ones, and their sponsors. There was a break between the end of the awards ceremony proper and a buffet dinner hour (Nick's long-accepted allergies having effectively exempted him) and all-evening bar. A big band was scheduled for dancing until midnight. When Maura excused herself after dinner to find the ladies' room Natalie reached out for Nick's arm.

"Tell me, how is she doing? She seems to be coming back pretty well."

Everyone at the table, including Captain Cohen, was aware of the struggle Maura was engaged in. Nick felt grateful for the opportunity to express himself to someone other than his own conscience, which he'd be the first to admit had never been the perfect guide. "We've both gotten to the point where we can talk about it, and figure out how it's affected us both. It's all in the right direction, anyway." He wasn't ready to talk about their plans to go away. If he had, he might have discovered that his interpretation of the concept was very different from Maura's. By then she'd returned and the band had begun a Glenn Miller tune.

"How about a little Moonlight Serenade, detective?" she invited, taking Nick's hand. "It's been awhile since we cut the rug." Myra joined in the sentiment, pulling at her husband's arm.

"She's right, Donnie, it's been too long since we just had _fun_." Both couples took their leave as Natalie and Grace, Captain Cohen, and the other detectives discussed the stories they'd heard from the podium that evening.

Maura had barely snuggled into Nick's shoulder before she noticed something at the bar. Not being in a drinking mood, she'd ignored that part of the room until her perspective from the dance floor brought it into focus.

"I thought you wanted to cut the rug?" Nick asked as she stopped short and lifted her head to get a better look. Not wanting him to see right away, and not knowing why he didn't know already, she told him enigmatically, "Don't start without me…" as she took off in the direction of the bar.


	6. Convenience and necessity

"What'll it be, lady?" The dark haired and darker-eyed bartender barely looked up from his bottles.

"You this hard up for cash?"

He shrugged. "Even Inca gold can't stand up to Toronto rents forever."

"Vash, come on," when Maura reached out and took his hand, he looked her in the eye.

"I figured it'd be nice to see the payoff. Even if I know it's not my fault, isn't it okay for me to be here to see that?"

She wanted to tell him no, it wasn't okay, she wanted to say it wasn't any of his fault or any of his business, but she couldn't. Maybe because he was right. Like everyone who had had a part in holding her together, he had the right to see the "closure", to quote shrinkspeak. Even if he had screwed up along the way. Hell, none of it would have happened if _she_ hadn't screwed up, and left everyone else to rescue her. How low could she be to blame him for having tried, and gotten it wrong? How could she blame him for _anything_? When she looked at Vachon, she saw family. What he ate (or drank) for dinner didn't matter a damn.

"_Hello_, you could've just asked. I'd have gotten you an invite."

"Yeah, but then Janette would've lost out on a promo op," Vachon indicated a small sign posted above the bar. "Beverage services provided compliments of Raven, in recognition of tonight's honorees."

Maura shook her head and laughed. For all of Janette's unquestionable compassion, she did know how to do well by doing good.

"So what'll it be?" Vachon repeated. Other customers stood waiting nearby.

"Just this." Maura seized Vachon by his velvet bow tie and leaned across the low bar to plant a full-frontal smooch, simultaneously pulling a dollar from the pocket of her black satin jeans to stuff into the pocket Vachon's vest.

"Tip big, folks, a good bartender is hard to find," she told the amused bystanders before running back to join Nick where he still stood waiting on the dance floor. Vachon turned his smile to an elegantly dressed older woman, who immediately blushed.

"You heard the lady," he told her as he handed her the champagne she'd asked for a moment earlier. "Gratuities welcome." She stifled an oddly girlish giggle as she left, but not before dropping a fiver in the oversized brandy snifter. Charm worked better than hypnosis on mortal women, he thought to himself as another wealthy matron stepped up with a shy smile to place her order. Too bad he really didn't need the money.

"Making time with the hired help? What a fickle wench," Nick teased as Maura returned to his arms just as another smooth number started.

"Don't be ridiculous," she sniffed, "He's _donated_ help. Now shut up and dance."

"I love it when you're masterful," he growled in her ear.

* * *

When they got home Maura put her award plaque on the mantelpiece, draping the beribboned donut over one corner. 

Nick nodded his approval. "I think that captures things just right. Now if you're not too worn out by the whole ordeal," he added with a sardonic smile, "why don't you tell me where you thought we might 'go away' to."

Maura was caught by surprise. She'd expected a bit more discussion, the pros and cons of what she knew to be a sabbatical that would take some wrangling both at her workplace and his. Janette, of course, had a larger circle to recruit replacements from. Nick had shed his jacket and sat on the sofa, patting the place beside him as he continued.

"Funny how it takes something so extreme to focus you on what you've been thinking about for a while. What you said last night made perfect sense; we've changed so much in the past few years, we can't ignore it. Maybe it's not just because we met, but it doesn't matter why. It just is, and I agree, we need to go somewhere nobody knows us to be able to figure out who we are together and individually, and that's not likely to happen in Toronto."

"Have you been talking with Brinkmeyer?" Maura asked as she joined him, draping an arm around his shoulders. "If you did I'm glad, the first step to us not being stupid anymore is to stop being quiet until we think we have it all figured out."

"I just went to see him a couple of times this week to clarify a few things in my head. I was going to tell you."

She patted Nick's chest and reassured him, "I'm not worried about that kind of thing anymore, Bats, honest. You already told me, no more secrets. That's good enough for me. It doesn't mean I need to know every thought in your head. In fact I think that might get kind of scary," she made a ghoulish face that made him laugh. God, it was good to see him laugh again.

"You know it. No, I think the time is right for what you said we need, and it would make sense even if you hadn't gone through what's happened recently. You, we, _do _need to go somewhere we don't' have to deal with the expectations of others. It's time to start fresh, to figure out the present without tripping over the past, maybe for the first time for both of us."

This was sounding a little peculiar to Maura. There was something so, well, _permanent_ about what Nick was describing. "Nick, I'm starting to wonder if we're talking about the same thing here."

He looked a little perplexed at first, then explained, "I'm saying that I agree it's a good time for us to move on. It's been nearly ten years for me, and I think the endless cycle of death, despair, and imperfect justice is wearing thin. I'm tired, Maura, and the changes that have happened in me will be better served if they can find a new incarnation to inhabit." Nick's puzzled expression returned as Maura sat back and regarded him with disbelief.

"'Moving on'? Is that what you think I meant? Jesus, Nick, when I said I needed to go away, I meant, well, _go_ away, not _move_ away. How could you think I just wanted to walk off from everything I have here? Everything _we_ have here." It took her a minute to realize what got lost in translation was part of the very "divide" they wanted so much to lessen. "Of course," she laughed once, and then looked him in the eye. "To me, going away means taking some time, finding a neutral corner to regroup and recognize how the new stuff fits in with the existing stuff. To a vampire it means another leg in the one-way trip from one incarnation to another. You're not just tired, hell I'm tired too from the eternal balancing act, but you're _bored_ too. Someone who lives forever couldn't _not_ be bored sooner or later, when you can just pick up and go whenever you want."

The dismissive tone in Maura's voice triggered a defensive edge in Nick's. "From what you've told me that's pretty much what you've done all your life too. It doesn't count any less if you've been doing it for decades instead of centuries." The edge was blunted when Maura moved into his lap and linked her hands behind his neck, staring into his eyes.

"You're right, I have and it doesn't. But in all this talk about changes I think maybe I've left out some specifics. I'm tired of one-way; I'm tired of walking out and moving on. I only did it because I had to, to survive. When you're hunted you can't afford to double back. It's all one way, all parallel lines. But neither one of us is hunted anymore, not really." Nick's expression saddened a little.

"Not for the moment, anyway. You know that I can't stay anywhere permanently. Sooner or later that would make me hunted again."

"But not now, not yet." She gazing steadily in his eyes, understanding and agreeing but only to a point. If they couldn't close the mortal/immortal divide between them, maybe she could find a way to narrow it for a while. Let sooner or later come later. "You're still well within the safety zone, you know as well as I do that some people just don't show their age. Some guys just stay looking young and handsome almost forever." He didn't look convinced. "C'mon, we live in the age of medically assisted eternal youth, how hard would it be to convince someone I forced you into 'getting some work done'?"

Nick gave her a kiss and moved her off of his lap, getting up to go to the kitchen. "Sweet, I know you understand what I mean. I don't want to hurt my friends any more than you do, but the fact is this would be the perfect time to address the, ah, imperatives of immortality without raising any questions."

She followed him into the kitchen. "You mean it's easier this way, don't you? Just let my little breakdown provide you with the cover you need. Swell. I'm so glad there's an upside to this whole mess. I still can't believe it's so easy for you to walk away from the people who you claim mean so much to you."

Nick went about the business of opening a bottle and filling a wine glass, not bothering to face Maura, whose self-righteous expression was a given. Nick drained his glass and regarded it ironically, put it down on the counter and turned to face her. "I assumed we were on the same page, but I was wrong. It wasn't the first time and it won't be the last. If you'd been forced to walk away thousands of times you'd know it becomes a skill like any other and you wouldn't find it surprising that you could be philosophical about it. I'm afraid it just comes naturally after 800 years."

Maura wasn't willing to give up the debate. She wanted him to agree that he was wrong, that what he was suggesting born of selfishness and lack of perspective. "A skill. Nice to know breaking hearts is a 'skill'."

She was doing it again. Nick knew she wasn't aware of it, but deep down Maura expected him to think and behave like a mortal even as she insisted he needn't aspire to mortality. He drained his glass and left the room. She could hear him say as he went, "Necessity can make anything into a skill. You of all people should know that."

Whoa. The blanks left by the end of that sentence were filled in a rush from Maura's memory. Necessity… made a skill of selling herself to her best bet for a protector. Let her run away all her life and let her lie (even to him). Made her a dead shot when she'd never fired a weapon in her life. _When_ would she start paying _attention_? She went after him in a rush.

"Nick, wait, I'm sorry." When he stopped in his tracks she added, "Can you believe that? I'm _sorry_. I like things easy too, don't I? It's easier to expect you to just agree to see things my way than to figure out how to find common ground." He turned around, surprising her with a wry smile.

"Well we'd better put that at the top of the 'figure out' list, because common ground is the best we're going to get. We'll never think the same way or speak exactly the same language, not entirely, no matter how much we want to. The problem is we both cling a little too tenaciously to our respective perspectives."

"Okay. All assuming aside," she went to Nick and took his hands, looking up at him. "I don't _wanna_ leave these people and this 'incarnation' behind just yet. Not until we absolutely have to. I know that day will come, I swear I do. But I don't think it has to be now, no matter how handy the timing might feel. Please? Can the exit door swing both ways this time?"

He had to admit she had a point. Convenience didn't equal necessity. And part of what had changed in Nicholas de Brabant in the past few years was the arrival of a nagging urge to find some way around the "immortal imperative", even if he could buy only a little time. Like Maura, he was tired of walking away. He was also bored, that was true, but boredom was trumped by his attachment to the people and life he'd found here.

"Okay. How's this for a little common ground?" He brushed her hair back with one hand and smiled down at her. "I don't really _want_ to move on now either, not yet. And something as new and different as 'doubling back' might be just what I need to stave off that boredom you mentioned."

Maura sighed gratefully and dropped her forehead to his shoulder. "Thank you, thank you." She looked up again and the relief on her face was evident. "Natalie would _kill_ me if she thought I'd encouraged you to leave."

Nick gave an exaggerated shudder. "Now _there's_ some common ground I don't mind passing by." When Maura pulled away he asked, "Where you going now?"

"To the internet!" she announced as she fired up the computer. "Since you are filthy rich, I'm gonna pick somewhere _very cool_ to go away to!"

"Wherever you want. Just make sure it's not too sunny."

"And I"m gonna find a place with a low crime rate. We're going on holiday, detective, and I'm removing all temptation to detect."

Nick left her to her research. There was no sense bringing up the subject of a leave of absence with the Captain (or anyone else) until he knew how long they'd be gone, and that depended largely upon where they went. He felt an unaccustomed surge of excitement as he realized how long it had been since he'd had something to look forward to. Crimes to solve, trouble to unravel, yes. But simply going away for pure enjoyment and discovery? Had he _ever_ done that? Had Maura? And had he ever been entirely, pleasantly, surprised?

"It's been way too long," he said aloud to himself.

"What did you say?" Maura called to where he stood in the kitchen having another drink. "Hey, you want a short list of destinations?"

Nick came back to the living room and sat on the sofa, switching on some music. "Nah, surprise me." He thought about that for a minute, and smiled. "Yeah, do that. Surprise me." He'd like that. A lot.


	7. Going where?

Maura sighed as she clicked on the dropdown again to see the list of the endless array of travel, geography, history, and other sites she'd been plowing through. There were _so many places_ to go and so many _ways_ to get there, and some ways were holidays in themselves and some destinations were so perfect until the next one she thought of. Quiet, busy, remote, urban, and everywhere imaginable. She said she wanted to go somewhere nobody knew her, well hell that was easy enough. She'd never been anywhere outside of the two US coasts (and precious little of them) and two provinces in Canada. Three if you counted her foray into Edmonton, but that only lasted a couple of weeks before she moved on to Vancouver. Who knew there were so many low-rent undead in Edmonton? At least in Vancouver they had a little style.

She learned very quickly that she hadn't really been much of anywhere and that made the world way too big and unmanageable an oyster for her. Choices, when had she ever had so many _choices_? Usually it was just pick up and move forward and always because she was moving away from something. And even that had stopped three years ago. This time it was for fun. Fun? My god, had she ever gone anywhere just for fun that lasted more than a few hours or turned into a trip to hell? What she wrestled with at the moment, of course, were _nice_ choices, but they overwhelmed her. She wasn't used to this, the logistics of leisure travel. Maybe she could contact a travel agent. Nah, she'd never be able to explain the parameters of Nick's existence. "You must make sure there's a ready supply of animal blood, and maybe you can book us in Siberia during the 6-month darkness?" She would have laughed but frustration was pushing her in the opposite direction. She thought this would be so easy; just pick your heart's desire. Trouble was, she'd never actually had the time to think of one, and now that she could really see what was out there she wanted _everything_.

It was nearly 3 am when Nick appeared at her shoulder, having finished the entire history book he'd picked up when they got home from the awards evening just before midnight.

"How's it going?"

"Going! Now there's a concept!" she exclaimed in near-desperation. "I don't know! There are so many places and ways and reasons to _go_ I can't sort them out." When she looked up at Nick his face was lit with an affectionate smile. She did not find this at all comforting.

"What?! I'm crushed by endless possibilities here. I'm a _very_ _capable_ person who can't figure out how to take a vacation! That makes you smile?"

Nick knelt by the computer chair and reached out to switch off the flat panel monitor. "No, Sweet, _you_ make me smile. I think I'm getting a look at you when you were six years old on your first trip to the candy store." Eyes bloodshot and bleary with exhaustion, she nodded silently.

"Uh-huh, kinda." She let Nick draw her up from the chair.

"Besides, you've never had a 'vacation' in your life. It's been a long day, why don't you go up to bed and I'll have a look at the wide world. I've had a lot more experience in navigating it, maybe I can come up with something you'll like."

"But how will you know?"

At this, Nick pressed a hand to his chest and widened his eyes in mock offense. "How will I _know_? You wound me," he accused melodramatically. Seeing she wasn't getting the joke, and was quite possibly on the verge of tears, he quickly took her in his arms and whispered, "Nobody knows you better than me. Let me take a shot, come up with some options, and then you can tell me if it's close or a complete miss. We don't have to figure this out tonight, you know."

She sighed. "'kay. Geez, Bats, I never thought being happy would be such hard work."

"Oh, my best beloved," Nick told her as he led her to the stairs and gave her a kiss before pointing her upward toward the bedroom, "Being happy is the hardest work there is."

A little more than two hours later Nick shut down the computer with a satisfied smile and left his notebook open next to the keyboard. When he crawled into bed Maura snuggled against him and mumbled, "Are we there yet?" When she got no response except a weary kiss she sank, smiling, back into sleep.

* * *

"C'mon Nick, wake up! Rise and fang!"

Maura shook him violently for the fifth time, and for the fifth time got no response. She figured he'd come to bed some time after sunrise, and since it was now barely 11 am Nick was deep in the midst of vampire slumber that made mortal REM sleep look like a momentary fugue. But like the first kid up on Christmas day, Maura wanted to know what going-away options he'd come up with and she wanted to know _now_. He was right; he had endlessexperience traveling the world in every imaginable fashion, from the horse drawn coaches to to self-propelled flight, to an ocean voyage on the Titanic. Well, she'd rather skip that last one. Conventional flying was fine by her, and the right flights teamed with a rush to an airport hotel could keep them from having to deal with daylight. Getting there was never "half the fun" for her anyway. At least not so far.

She'd already been downstairs but couldn't make head or tail out of Nick's notes, written in some sort of mediaeval French shorthand. And while she knew his various passwords, the computer was set to erase all Internet history when the browser shut down, and wiped out cookies and temp files and anything else that might leave a trail for unwanted mortal (or criminal) eyes, so she'd been unable even to guess at what he'd been considering.

"Rats," she grumbled at Nick as she released the well-wrenched collar of his pajamas. By mutual agreement during the past week he'd planted a post-hypnotic suggestion to replace her favorite four-letter expletives with the more socially acceptable "rats". It worked pretty well in cleaning up what Janette described as Maura's "unfortunate vocabulary". It proved less versatile in function than her traditional favorites, however, and led to some very perplexed reactions from those on the receiving end of an angry "Rats you!", "Rats off!", or "Holy rats!" Nick persuaded her that these small embarrassments were worth overlooking. "I'd rather live with an unintentional comic than a dock worker, if you don't mind."

"Rats, rats, rats," Maura chanted in a frustrated mantra as she stomped down the stairs. Who knew _when_ he'd wake up? She toyed with the idea of contacting Aristotle to work his computer magic, but figured he'd never agree. He'd done enough for her already, having tracked down Brinkmeyer. Her final session with him had been the day before the awards night.

"Well my dear, I think we have run out of demons to cast out, don't you?" Brinkmeyer was satisfied that what adjustment difficulties remained had been sufficiently released from secrecy that she and Nick and her other friends could work them out amongst themselves.

"Yeah, I'd say whatever little goblins and gremlins remain can be kicked to the curb without _too_ much trouble." Maura regarded her vampire shrink with a grateful smile, more than a little ashamed it had taken so long to appear. "This hasn't been fun for either one of us, has it? Thank you, Dr. B, really. I know you didn't have to do this."

"I'm glad all this hard work has been rewarded with positive results," he told her. What he didn't mention was that Nick had paid him a small fortune for his time and considerably strained patience. Otto Brinkmeyer's professional detachment fought with his inner question of how Nicholas de Brabant managed to cohabit successfully with a creature who appeared to be the sworn enemy of logic and sense. Ah, well, he thought, if such was not the case _she_ would not be cohabiting with one vampire and undertaking psychotherapy with another, would she? There are more things in heaven and earth… or so he had told Will Shakespeare, anyway. He saw her to the door and shook her hand warmly.

"I wish you every success, my dear. Do remember me to Nicholas." Whose two visits were straightforward and quickly beneficial, he added silently. Age must be making me impatient.

Now left with no option but to wait for Nick to wake up, Maura finished her coffee and popped a DVD into the player. Roman Holiday. Wouldn't that be nice, she thought, a weekend in Rome with Gregory Peck. Unfortunately Gregory Peck had died some years ago. A mere technicality, she acknowledged with a dark laugh as the opening credits rolled.

* * *

"So much for your career as a hacker."

Nick's whisper in her ear made Maura jump a mile and even utter a squeak of alarm. After the movie was over she'd picked up a book, The Uncommercial Traveler (natch) by Dickens, and was midway through a 19th century train journey when Nick glided downstairs to lean over her shoulder. It was nearly dark, and she'd lit just one lamp on the end table and opened the shutters to let in the moonlight.

"_Rats!_" she exploded and leapt up off the sofa to Nick's laughter.

"I'm gaining new appreciation for our decision to clean up your vocabulary," he admitted, not even trying to disguise his amusement.

"Well _I'm_ beginning to suspect an ulterior motive, detective."

Nick raised his hands in a mute protestation of innocence and changed the subject quickly as he went into the kitchen and fed his waking thirst. "So, don't you want to know what I've come up with?"

Returning with another full glass he booted up the computer and pulled a chair up next to his as Maura sat down eagerly. When he simply clicked on "My Documents" and then on a file named "Going Away", she felt like slapping herself in the head.

"Rule one in detective work, never overlook the obvious," Nick winked at her, then rotated the monitor so she could see the itinerary he'd planned. Each item had a link to images and other details, but the text alone took Maura's breath away. It started with a train ride to New York, continued with a first-class penthouse suite on the Queen Mary 2, and ended in a place called The Studio at Glenferness Estate, not far from Inverness Scotland. Scattered between were train trips and private cars and stays at hotels Maura had never heard of but had no doubt would be suitably posh and undoubtedly intimate.

"How do they put a penthouse suite on a _boat_?" She couldn't even imagine what the Queen Mary would be like. She'd never been on a cruise in her life, let alone the toppest-top shelf ship out of Great Britain, who practically invented transatlantic cruises.

"Not a 'boat'; the Queen Mary," Nick corrected. "Just think of it as the Grand, only ten times as big, and floating." She'd clicked on the Cunard link while he was talking, and now sat staring bug-eyed at the screen. To break her trance Nick added, "And they have dancing, to jazz and big bands, or rock and roll, every night. All night if you want. And a Jacuzzi," he finished in a sultry whisper.

Maura was completely overwhelmed but remembered enough of their romantic time at the Toronto Grand to ask, "But they don't have _exceptional_ housekeeping, do they?" Surely it would be a chore to keep Nick's nature a secret during a full week at sea.

"'They' don't, but we will. I happen to have an old acquaintance who is a senior steward…"

"Emphasis on 'old', I imagine." Maura sat for a minute, looking from Nick to the computer monitor.

"Why don't you take a look at where we'll be staying," he suggested, and as the images and site page displayed Maura gasped out loud. It was perfect. It was _heaven_. A tiny, rustic, beautifully crafted wooden cottage set in a wooded area on a Scottish country estate. Comfortably furnished with simple but comfy-looking chairs and sofa and a canopy bed, it featured a small porch, with beautifully carved posts, that overlooked a meadow edged with trees and field dotted with cows and sheep. And there was a hammock, _inside_, hung in front of a triptych-style window that offered a breathtaking view of the far hills of the estate and the wide horizon beyond.

"Don't worry, it has very tight shutters," Nick assured her. "And there's a small cooking area with a fridge and a cook stove, a bath and shower and on-demand electric water heater."

Maura turned to him, her expression dreamlike. "You said 'we will' have exceptional housekeeping, 'we'll be staying'… you mean it's all arranged?"

Suddenly Nick felt a twinge of doubt. After all he'd promised to come up with several options, and it wasn't like him to make unilateral decisions for the both of them. Of course they'd never had decisions like this to make before, but all the more reason to have made sure of her response before booking everything and paying in advance. He'd just gotten carried away. Now he decided to buy some time… cancellations would cost a fortune but a fortune wasn't high on his list of concerns if this wasn't what she had in mind.

"Tell me what you think? You haven't checked it all out yet."

Maura noticed his apprehension. "Holy rats-ing _rats_!" she burst out, pulled his chair back and climbed into his lap as she wrapped him up in a headlock and kiss that would have suffocated a mortal. After a minute or two, or three, she loosened her grip and pulled back just enough to look him in the eye.

"You said it last night. Nobody knows me better than you. However could it not be perfect?"

"Well in that case," he gave her another kiss and confessed, "it's a done deal. All arranged and paid for, all overland travel at night, and Austin will be waiting for us on board the Queen Mary when we embark at New York. I hope you don't mind all the five star stuff. I think you can handle another limited dose of the good life." She had fallen into the upper-crust milieu pretty well the last time.

"Don't worry, you can take me to the swank joints. I can behave appropriately for short stretches," she grinned in his face. But one question remained. "How long?" She needed to know what to tell Janette.

"You could say that's up to karma."

By now Maura had turned loose from Nick and was standing at his shoulder still looking at the computer images of the cottage. She cast an uncertain look at him, wondering if this was a back-door effort at "moving on". He switched off the computer.

As always, he seemed to read her mind. "No, Sweet, this isn't an escape route. It's time away, and we'll know when it's right to come back. The return voyage and the cottage lease are both open-ended. I've arranged for the bills here to be paid and deliveries suspended for six months."

She felt a little ashamed of her suspicions. "I'm sorry. I should know better than to think you'd con me." That notion made them both laugh.

"As if I could…now I think we'd better talk to our respective employers. We leave in two weeks."

The utopian glow burned off enough to allow Maura to consider the more mundane realities surrounding their plans. Janette would be easy-come-easy-go regarding her absence, or close to it. Metro was another thing altogether. "Nick, what if the captain says no?"

His expression was firm. "Then a leave of absence will turn into something more permanent. This is too important to let department protocol interfere. We both know Schanke will understand, and maybe that's all that matters."

"Still… I'd hate to have you burn bridges for me."

Nick ran a hand through her hair and went to the kitchen to refill his empty glass. "It's for me too," he reminded Maura as she followed. "And maybe I can get away with just scorching them a bit."

He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt, but his mind was made up. If "going away" became "moving on", it wouldn't be his doing.


	8. Exit plans

"So what are you gonna say to the captain? How are you going to convince her to give you an open-ended leave? I mean for me it's fairly predictable. Janette will sigh, and press an elegant hand to her long-suffering furrowed brow, and we'll debate the logistics a bit. But in the end she'll be picking out cruise fashions for me. _Your_ situation, well let's just say the captain is a little less of a romantic."

Nick sipped his evening glass and looked up from financial the statements he held in his lap. The general manager at the De Brabant Foundation had figured that if certain transactions were going to be shifted to his hands for the foreseeable future that now might be an opportune time to persuade his usually detached client to review some investments and approve some other minutiae. While Nick had no trouble navigating the ins and outs of high finance and the legal details of his enormous wealth, he regarded such things as a chore he happily preferred to leave to others and paid them well to do so.

"Taking the frequent suggestions of a wise woman," he raised his glass to Maura, "I've decided to tell the truth. And I confess it's a nice substitute for 'plausible explanations'. Very refreshing, in fact. Don't know why I didn't think of it centuries ago."

"One word, mon coeur: Enforcers."

Nick nodded as if enlightened by a new idea. "Well now that you mention it…"

"You're not serious though, you're not _really_ going to tell Cohen about the whole holiday thing, are you? Can't you just say we're going away and leave it at that?" She left the sofa to sit on the arm of Nick's chair. "I mean, I'm thinking,"

"About how she might not be sympathetic to my reasons," he finished for her (or so he thought).

"About how she _will_ speed dial IAD the minute she hears one of her rank and file is going first class on the Queen Mary."

It appeared Nick really hadn't thought of this. "Hmm. You're right, that might raise some questions."

Maura rolled her eyes in disbelief and leaned down in his face to ask, "Ya _think_? Maybe discretion might be the better part of, er, _discretion_. Save the truth for when it won't set Metro on our trail, okay?"

"Wise_ass_ woman," he muttered, and then abruptly pulled her into his lap. "How _do_ I put up with you?"

"Any way you can." They stared at each other through narrowed eyes for a minute or two, each waiting for the other to blink or laugh. Maura broke first, but not as expected. She dropped her head onto Nick's shoulder and hugged tight around his neck. "Thank you, Just Nick, thank you so much for doing this. Not the going away part, I know that's for both of us," she lifted her head to look him in the eye, "thank you for not insisting the door only swings one way." He was smiling in a way she hadn't seen in quite a while.

"First time for everything." He smiled "that" smile, the one she fell in love with so soon after meeting him. "You haven't called me that in a long time. I remember the first time, standing in the crowd at Raven that first night that Janette thought she'd try to shake me up for sport." He saw that Maura remembered too.

"I guess it worked, huh?"

"You bet. I've been good and shook ever since, no 'sport' about it." Maura settled in Nick's arms as if she were going to take a nap. "Comfy?" he asked with exaggerated solicitousness.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Totally."

"Nice to know if I get tired of police work I have a future as upholstery." Affection erased any possible sardonic intent. Nick's attention was well absorbed in contemplating the pleasure of Maura's warmth and the softness of the wrist his fingers traced when a horn sounded outside and she jerked upright.

"That's my cab! I almost forgot my hair appointment."

"Hey!" he exclaimed as her hipbone connected sharply with his groin. Some sensitive male areas survive beyond mortality, he thought ruefully with the few brain cells that weren't firing with pain.

"Oh rats, I'm sorry," she reached down to kiss his cheek after springing to her feet.

"Thanks, but that's not what you mashed," Nick noted weakly.

"I'll kiss the boo-boo later," she promised with a meaningful wink, "Hey, if we don't know when we're coming back, I have to tend to the externals." She tossed her head to let her blonde-streaked red hair fly.

"Oh, well, as long as I've been gelded for a _worthy_ cause..." This time the derision was plain, if weakly delivered, but she was halfway out the door already.

"For christsake stop whining. It's like a lizard tail to you lot, if you cut it off" here Nick gave a very mortal male cringe and shudder "it'd grow back in an hour! Good luck with your negotiations. I'm going from the salon to Raven, Vash'll drive me home. Late, I imagine." In spite of her hurry she was mindful of Nick's upcoming conversations with the captain and Schanke. And Natalie. _That_ one would be in a class by itself.

* * *

"Detective, take a moment to appreciate my position. Your request puts me at a great disadvantage. It's no easy thing to get an experienced detective to fill in during an extended absence. Not to mention someone who knows this precinct, and can work closely with Detective Schanke. Add to that the time you've taken already, and a month's unannounced leave in the past. And now you're asking for an 'open-ended' leave of absence… even if I manage to be sympathetic, Command isn't likely to be. And given my authorization of your absences so far, it puts me in an awkward position with my superiors." 

All of which Nick had been prepared to hear, and none of which made a bit of difference to him. "Captain everything you say is true. I'm more grateful than I can every say for your support so far and willingness to let things slide. But Maura is coming back from a trauma we can barely imagine, and if what she needs is to get away for a bit, and I'm convinced she's right about that, then it's not even a choice. With all due respect, it's a no-brainer. But that being said I'm not willing to put your position or reputation in jeopardy. If it will make it any simpler for you I'll simply resign from the department so you can find a suitable permanent replacement."

Amanda Cohen had had her share of frayed nerves and stretched patience courtesy of Detectives Knight and Schanke. She also was dead certain that they were among the best she'd ever had under her command and she was loath to lose either of them and disrupt a winning team. At the same time she knew that Knight wasn't bargaining; his mind was made up. In a choice between his job and the woman he loved it was clearly, as he said, a no-brainer. She liked Maura Logue, and recognized the positive influence and support she provided as a "partner's partner" to a man in a very high-stress position. It helped him, and thus helped the department, as Myra Schanke's identical influence and support did. For any detective at the end of the day, the people who supported them at home made a difference in the job they had to do.

"Nick," the captain leaned forward and laid her hand on Nick's arm, "you know I'm not one of those commanders who believes that the precinct and personal life exist in two different spheres. If they did, you wouldn't be as valuable to me as you are. " She sat back again, sighing in resignation. "I'll authorize an open-ended leave of absence for extraordinary personal reasons. But please, I'm counting on you to keep me informed. If this leave turns out to be permanent..."

Nick cut her off. "It's been decided already. I can't promise how soon I'll come back, but come back I will as long as my job's still here. I've been told as much by someone whose influence supersedes even yours."

Cohen went (inwardly) weak with relief. No matter how much she connected with her detectives' personal needs, she wasn't ashamed of wanting her department to be served well. "Well tell that 'someone' that I'm very grateful for her influence."

When Nick stood and took the captain's outstretched hand it was more a connection than a handshake.

"Safe journey, detective. "

Nick smiled. "I think I can guarantee that, at least."

* * *

Natalie didn't get up to greet Nick as she usually did when he entered the lab. She didn't even look up from the paperwork on her desk, but spoke as if she were facing him. 

"I keep thinking, stupid me, that sooner or later, _some_ time soon, any minute now, you'll think enough of me to tell me yourself when you've made the kind of decision that will affect everyone you know. Since I'm one of those people, 'everyone you know'. But today it happened again, I heard from… who? Someone in Records I think, Detective Knight had a meeting with the captain and the search is on for a replacement. Surely I must have known, after all we're such_good _friends, Detective Knight and I."

"Nat," Nick began, crossing the room to stand behind her, laying a hand on her shoulder. She jerked away as if burned, then jumped up angrily to face him.

"Oh, _don't_. Even I have a limit to the number of times a hug and a belated apology can make up for what you should have done."

Deciding not to debate her right to her feelings, Nick simply said, "I had to talk to the captain first, it was only a few hours ago. I didn't think that the office gossip mill would beat me here."

Natalie's rage disappeared as if a switch had been tripped, and she knew that _Nick_ knew that what she was struggling with was a lot more than an accident of timing. She looked around the lab and was saddened to realize how much of their relationship had played out here, surrounded by death and tragedy and the cold instruments of analysis. "Would you mind very much if we continue this somewhere else?" She didn't have to explain.

"I think that's a good idea, Nat," Nick agreed. Why don't you close up here and I'll drive us back to the loft." He warded off her awkward protest by adding, "Maura's at Raven to work things out with Janette. She won't be back until after closing time, Vachon's giving her a lift. Unless you'd rather go somewhere else…"

She felt a little caught out. Was it that obvious? Then again there was nothing between them that hadn't been obvious. Not talking about it made it even more noticeable, and they both had been champions of not talking about it. "No, Nick, that's okay. I didn't mean… never mind, I don't have to explain, do I?"

He shook his head and smiled knowingly. "No, you don't." He sat on one of the lab stools. "You just do what you have to do here and I'll wait."

Nick watched silently as Natalie put papers and instruments away in the lab and made sure the morgue was secure. How many of the most important aspects of their friendship had been discovered and discussed here? More importantly, he thought to himself, how many of them had been ignored? The silent conversations that had hovered between them like a held breath were about to find their voice at last.

With unsettling speed (relative to 800 years) Nick had achieved what he'd never imagined possible – a slowly dawning acceptance of himself, past and present, and the realization that he could find a measure of happiness and contentment in his existence rather than simply enduring it, and Natalie had spent years trying to convince him such a thing was possible. But something inside Nick had been transformed three years past when _Maura_ told him "you're nothing you shouldn't be". He was unable to explain even to himself how or why Natalie's tireless efforts to persuade him of the very same thing had met with such stubborn resistance, and why that resistance evaporated so suddenly at the words of a then-stranger. He hadn't planned it this way, to hurt Natalie so deeply in so many ways. Of all his past crimes and sins this one was what plagued him most. He knew in spite of all of his protestations of friendship and love that the devotion of his friendship could never be the same as what she longed for.

It was well past time for Natalie to be able to say out loud what Nick had never really been willing to listen to. He only hoped he could be worthy of the grace she'd shown for so long, when watching him gain his heart's desire meant giving up her own forever.


	9. Parting words

"After so long you'd think we'd have nothing new left to say," Natalie told Nick as they settled on the sofa. "Oh, don't look at me with that pained expression. If you're going to feel guilty, and I know you will no matter what, at least have it be for the right thing, like walking away forever when you don't have to."

He'd promised her on the way back to the loft that he'd listen first and talk second. So he waited. After a minute Natalie reached out a hand to grip his wrist.

"Go on Nick, I can see you're choking on something. Let it out, what I have to say won't evaporate in five minutes."

He turned his hand up and took hers. "I want you to know, I'm not leaving for good, this isn't 'moving on'. It's just some time away."

Natalie's brow furrowed. "That's a surprise. Since when did 'away' for you _not_ mean 'moving on'?" She knew him too well; this couldn't have been his first intention. His wry smile vindicated her doubts.

"Okay, I confess that's what I had in mind. The time seemed right, I've been here for quote a while, and know lots of people better than I'd intended. All the things that would cause the average person to feel anchored raise the alarm bells in my head. Time to go. And after what's happened in the past month or so, Maura needing some time away to get her thoughts in order..."

"Gave you the ideal cover," Natalie finished. She shook her head. "You don't have to tell me the rest. Maura said no, didn't she? Between the two of you, she's the one that time and ties would anchor in one place instead."

"Well she's never had them before, has she? It's all new to her, feeling like she belongs somewhere. She needs to get away, but more than that she needs to come back again."

Natalie looked closely at Nick and asked, "Why do you say 'I', and 'she', when we both know what you mean is 'we'?" She was confronted with Nick's trademark guilty/sympathetic look again, the one that made her want to scream. Or slap him silly. "Okay, let's quit the eternal tap dance, shall we? I know you think you know what I'm going to say, because you remember all the times I didn't. I have to say it's a mystery to me that someone so intimately acquainted with _change_ doesn't understand that the things we want to say, and the feelings that drive us to want to say them, they don't just remain in suspended animation until we spit them out."

Now it was Nick's brow that furrowed. This wasn't at all what he'd expected. After years of enforced silence he figured Natalie would pour forth everything she'd held inside for so long. "I don't understand, Nat."

She squeezed his hand. "Of course you don't." She thought for a moment. "So why don't we start with the obvious. I love you, Nick. I think that was a given from near the very beginning. And it was the world's biggest cosmic joke, that a self-defined monster was more worthy of my love and support than almost any man I'd met. Of course you saw yourself as exactly the opposite, unfit for human compassion, or love. And even if you felt the same pull as I did, and I know sometimes you did, maybe you held yourself back trying to save me from some fate worse than heartbreak. Or maybe you didn't give us a chance for that kind of connection because you were waiting to become mortal, when you figured it would be safer for me. Being close to you, being best friends, I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't have traded it for anything. We both know I would have traded it for something else. Let's be honest, I still might if you were still alone. And I'll say now what you know already, that when someone else came along and you couldn't keep that same iron control you managed with me, finding out that there was nothing to 'protect' me from after all was a real killer. All the things I thought we could share we really _could_ have shared, and with no fatalities. Oh, I was angry when you and Maura got together, no question. I was stunned that the walls you put up that I hadn't been able to crack in years could crumble in no time at all for someone else you'd barely met. I felt swindled, and I felt betrayed. But more than anything I was _angry_ because I wanted there to be someone to blame, and there wasn't." Nick opened his mouth to speak, then stopped himself. Natalie continued, "You tell me, who should I blame? You'd say you, of course, because you couldn't give me what I wanted. But you did what you thought was the right thing, you _always_ do, whether anyone agrees or not. Or should I blame Maura for grabbing onto what she'd needed for so long? Maybe we can all blame chemistry or physiology or any of the other crap we can't control. But in the end it wouldn't change anything." Natalie was quiet for a couple of minutes as she gathered her thoughts. "God, Nick, I think between the three of us there's enough 'sorry' to bury the world. But nobody wanted to hurt anyone, everybody wanted to make everybody happy. We all want to think we can make it come out even, but it hardly ever does."

Finally Nick spoke, hesitantly, "You're right, about all of it. I could see how all of what was happening to me affected you and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. For so long you'd encouraged me to accept myself, to move forward and stop looking back all the time. You tried so hard to convince me that who I am could balance who I used to be, or even make it irrelevant. The rage to be mortal, well that was a misguided goal that we both shared. I brought it here with me, you only tried to help. I wish I knew why things happened the way they did, it would be so much easier to say gee we just couldn't go that way because of a, b, or c. Nat, I just don't know. All I know is that hurting you has been my greatest regret, and the thought of not having you in my life is something I just can't face. I can hardly believe that after all this time, no matter if it's nobody's fault, you're still here."

She took his face between her hands and shook it. "Don't you dare say you don't deserve me. Even my patience has a limit."

They stared at each other for a second, and then Nick suggested, "I think we may deserve each other more than anyone. Maybe we're meant to have _just enough_ distance so we can see each other clearly. Maybe that's what saves us both."

Natalie nodded, and even smiled. "You could have something there." A shadow of sadness flickered across her face. "I can't promise I'll ever be able to love you in a reasonable way," she told him. "But I think I can promise to be your best friend, and eventually maybe I won't even feel cheated. By fate, or karma, or whatever you want to call the way things happen, but not by you. Even if I used to believe that, I don't anymore."

"Thank you," Nick whispered and pulled her into a hug, and for once Natalie didn't feel that skip in her heart she'd always felt when he touched her. What she felt now was a calm certainty that had been lacking for a long time. She'd never "lose" him, not ever, and didn't require a blood link for it to be true.

They sat like that for some time, at home with each other in a way they'd always been even when the angst had been tearing at the edges.

* * *

"Vachon, _come on._" Maura shadowed her friend as he busied himself restocking the bar and replacing the glasses he'd retrieved from the dishwasher. He hadn't had much to say tonight after she'd told him she was leaving in two weeks. "Stop being such a wuss... such a _mortal_, will you? I told you I'd be back. I put my foot down, I told Nick if we go we're coming _back_." 

Vachon slid the final bottle in place and turned to face Maura. "I don't need a lecture on time and distance, Luna."

"Then what's the problem, huh? You've been in a sulk since I told you."

He turned and walked toward the alley door, not looking back at her as he spoke.

"Step into my office. You always seem to do your best listening out here." When they got outside he pulled up a couple of discarded milk crates, sat on one and indicated she should join him.

Maura sat waiting as Vachon regarded her with a nonplussed smile. "For someone who knows me so well, you don't know me so well sometimes."

Her look said "huh?" but she didn't speak.

"Look, you just told me you're going away for who knows how long. Is it such a stretch to believe I'll _miss _you? Time and distance mean different things to me than you, sure, but away is still away." She still looked puzzled. "It's really not that deep. I have friends, and lovers, and prey, but do you really think my world is littered with people I can lighten up with? You can't really believe that none of us miss the light, no matter how long we've been what we are. You're my shot of light, I kind of got used to it. It'll kind of suck not to have it for a while." Suddenly his eyes grew a little sad. "Forgive me for not being all-knowing-philosophical about it. I know you plan to come back, but I've been around long enough to know anything can happen, any plans can change. Mine could too."

"Jesus, Vachon," she leaned over and touched his face. "You're the best friend I've got here. I can't even think of you not being here when I get back."

They sat in the dim alley, saying nothing for a few minutes. As was often her stupid habit, Maura hadn't really considered the entirety of her open-ended trip. Everyone she knew in the Community held a particular place in her life but Vachon was, to use an embarrassingly mortal term, "special". Suddenly the truth of what he said scared her a little; plans can change and, no matter what she and Nick intended, circumstances could lead them most anywhere. Just as they'd led her here.

"You _will_ still be here when I come back, right?" she asked him urgently.

"I don't know. I'm a vampire, not a fortune teller."

She knew he was being honest, not coy, and that was more than a little scary. "But you could _find_ me if you wanted to, right? No matter where we are, you could find me?"

Magic powers, he thought ruefully, everyone thinks we have every magic power in the book. "Not without the usual garden variety assistance, I couldn't. I can find my kind, but you're not my kind are you? I know, you keep forgetting. But you're not one of us, there isn't that blood link. Hey cheer up, almost everyplace has a phone book nowadays."

She was struck with a sudden inspiration, and leaned down to pick up a piece of glass that lay glittering under the street light. She wiped it slowly against her jeans. "You're right, of course, it takes more than good intentions, and you could go anywhere at all, couldn't you?"

Vachon didn't see what she was doing, but felt the jerk in her breathing and saw the sudden movement of her hand. When she held it out to him, her palm was welling with blood from the deep cut she'd made with the glass shard.

"Here," she told him.

"Maura, no," Vachon was taken aback. Regardless of how he took her blood, how little or how much of it, what she was suggesting was the most intimate act imaginable, and his link to her would be irreversible. What made him hesitate most, though, was the fear he'd be unable to stop.

"Javier, I trust you, take it, and we'll never lose each other…"

Already the fragrance of her blood was surrounding him, honeysuckle and amber. His eyes pulsed gold, then red, as he looked into hers. "This cannot be undone," he warned her, his voice deeper and more guttural than she was used to.

"Good. Vachon, please, I've lost so much along the way, I want to keep what I can from now on."

Nodding wordlessly Vachon opened his mouth with a soft hiss, fangs extended, and buried his face in Maura's palm, drawing from her with surprising strength. She'd expected something subtle, akin to a kiss of friendship, but what she felt was the same deep sensation of joining she'd experienced the first time with Nick. Not entirely the same, she wasn't awash in light and color, but the euphoric rush of warmth was the same. With one hand Vachon gripped her wrist, feeding with increasing pleasure, as with his other arm he drew them closer together. He moved nearer her throat where he could hear her pulse more strongly even through the mad rushing in his ears. Flowers, she tasted like flowers, he was consuming utopia. He managed to pull his mouth away from her hand, but couldn't keep from pressing his face into her neck and opening his mouth to feel the throbbing that threatened to deafen him.

"Javier," Maura managed to gasp, and weakly pressed against his head. She meant to push him _away_, why was she pulling him closer?

With a half moan, half growl, Vachon jerked his head back and thrust Maura away so abruptly she fell to the ground. She saw him double over as if in pain, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth, eyes wild and glowing and locked onto hers.

"Vachon," she scrambled to her knees and reached for him, "are you all right, I'm sorry, I didn't know…"

He shoved her away from him again and struggled for control. He'd known about her, of course he had, but still had been completely unprepared. After several long minutes he seemed to recover himself. She kept her distance, squatting in the shadows until his eyes returned to normal.

"That was very," he shook his head wildly, hissed again, and shuddered once. "…reckless of you."

Nick's words, after that first time she'd persuaded him to something he'd always believed was too dangerous to consider. This wasn't so different, though she'd expected it to be.

"Vash, I'm so sorry, I didn't know," she repeated uselessly, remaining where she was on the ground.

Now Vachon took Maura's hand, pulled her up to sit next to him again, and draped his arm around her neck to bring her face near his.

"You never do, do you, not completely. It will be your undoing, Luna, if you don't take care." Then he sat back and shook his head slowly as if to clear his thoughts. "Well, it's done."

"Done?"

He turned to press his forehead lightly against hers. "I'm yours for life. Or what passes for it. Now if you don't mind I'm going to go find someone who'll help me feed the rest of this thirst you've encouraged. If I don't see you before you go… te amo mi amiga, Luna loca." He kissed her once, deeply, and let her go.

"Te amo tambien, Javier."

She rose from the milk crate and brushed the dirt from herself. He was gone before she turned back to the club door. She'd already said her farewells to Janette, who as expected had taken the news with a smile and a casual shrug. That is, after lamenting the chaos she was sure she would be left to handle. Maura went into the bar to call a cab. As she waited out front she stared at the palm of her hand, healed already though still buzzing with a residue of energy. She closed it slowly, poked it into the pocket of her jeans. She wasn't sure if she'd tell Nick, but realized of course she didn't have to. Blood revealed everything, and he would understand.


	10. Bon voyage

"Hey small world, I got a call from the same address," the cabbie told Maura when he picked her up in front of Raven. Of course, Nick was going to talk with Natalie tonight, and he didn't need to tell her it would be more than just a brief and temporary farewell. It made sense he'd do it at home, a place where they could both be themselves. Very much like he and Maura could be themselves in the same home. Nick had been right, in some ways this felt like a major juncture for change whether or not they left for good. She couldn't suppress a twinge of uneasiness. Whatever would she say to Natalie after such a conversation, one that obviously had been put off since long before Maura arrived in Toronto? You don't unpack that kind of baggage in a couple of hours. And it _was_ baggage, because she knew well that both Natalie and Nick had been handing it off to one another in silence for a long time.

The elevator door slid open and Natalie stepped out as Maura's finger hovered near the call button. She didn't know exactly what she'd expected, maybe tears or red-eyed sadness, but what she saw was Natalie remarkably composed, maybe even settled.

"I'm sorry," Maura began awkwardly, "I intended to come home later but Vachon was called away, so I got a cab."

They stood there for a moment, then a smile emerged on Natalie's face that was remarkably like the one she saw on Nick from time to time, reassuring, a bit sadder-but-wiser.

"It's okay, Maura. It's your home, after all." She looked over Maura's shoulder out the window in the steel door. "And that's my cab."

"I feel like I should say something, you know, something important," Maura shook her head and waved her hands, "stupid, I just feel stupid." Then she just said what she was wondering. "Is everything okay?" Everything, not just Natalie, but Natalie and Nick, who after all found their connection long before Maura found hers with him.

Natalie glanced over her shoulder as if checking on Nick. "Yeah, it's okay. It is what it is." They looked at each other, equally out of ideas for anything clever to say. "It was never anyone's fault, Maura, and you couldn't have done anything to make it easier. Maybe I could have, or maybe Nick could have, but maybe doesn't count now. I'm just glad if I can't have him the way I thought I wanted that he has _somebody_ who loves him as much as he deserves, and can keep him safe from himself. Or who at least understands why it's important to try."

Outside the cabbie honked impatiently. Natalie reached for Maura's hand and squeezed it hard. "I've gotta go. So do you. I know we're both sorry it's been this hard; once you come back I think we can get better at being friends." She jerked her head in the direction of the elevator again. "Our connection to that imperfect prince of a guy upstairs gives us a good head start, right?"

"Right. We _will_ be back, Natalie. I made him promise."

Now Natalie smirked in appreciation. "Oh, he told me. It's one of the things I really like about you, Maura… you're the only one I know besides me who can back him to the wall and make him listen." Another impatient honk. "_Occasionally_."

They both laughed, and the unwelcome angst evaporated. "Here's to a good head start," Maura said, and the two women hugged impulsively. Natalie broke away and was out the door and gone.

* * *

Maura found Nick at his piano, candelabra lit, playing a Chopin étude. She sat next to him on the piano bench and ran a hand lightly through his hair. She was going to ask if he was okay but decided it was a stupid question. What was going on in his head right now (and Natalie's, for that matter) couldn't be served well by conversation. She leaned closer and kissed the edge of his jaw near his right ear, her place of choice when she hoped a kiss might ease whatever was churning inside that words wouldn't reach. Funny how you arbitrarily decide the best pathway to what's hurting, and somehow manage to guess right. Or maybe it was just the comfort of a loving ritual that did the trick. 

Nick smiled gently, eyes closed as his hands moved easily and never missed a note. Whenever he played he seemed joined to the music by way of the instrument, and now he moved a little with its rhythm. Maura slipped her arms around his waist, leaning her cheek against Nick's shoulder. She moved with him, letting their connection and the music take the place of inadequate analysis. Natalie was so right, it is what it is.

* * *

Over the next two weeks the finances were arranged, the Caddy safely stowed in storage, and the loft covered up and locked tight. LaCroix made an appearance one night when Nick had gone to make his farewells to Janette. 

"He's not here, he went to Raven."

The older vampire feigned disappointment in her. "Surely you know by now, of all people, that I _always_ know where Nicholas is. It's not him I came to see."

"Wishing me bon voyage, how _sweet_." Their original antagonism had morphed its way to a subdued sort of verbal one-upsmanship. Each knew they were stuck with the other, and were equally aware of Nick's irrevocable attachment to them both. Respect had come slowly, even acceptance, but affection would never join the mix. In any case they had become secure enough in their interaction to goad one another by occasionally turning the verbal barbs on themselves. Rather like throwing oneself on one's sword, it was an added _zing_ that deprived the opponent of a victory. LaCroix was, after all, a Roman general, and Maura delighted in playing on that knowledge at his expense.

He shrugged mildly. "I merely came by to engage in a wager. Surely you haven't lost the taste for such a challenge." She'd done it before, bargaining her life with Nick against a number of uncertain outcomes where LaCroix was concerned. She'd won them all so far, or to be honest had achieved a draw.

"What now? You wanna bet the boat will sink? He's been there, done that."

LaCroix strolled around the living room and waved a dismissive hand. "How obvious." Then he turned and looked her in sharply the eye, "And how incorrect. I'm betting that this little sojourn of yours will turn out to be 'moving on' in 'time away' clothing."

This was odd. What could he have to gain, either way? While he'd long ago ceased interfering in hers and Nick's relationship, he was and would be a constant presence in Nick's life. "You'd have to get in line for _that_ bet, believe me. But tell me, what makes it a wager instead of an idle prediction? No matter where we go you'll still be part of Nick's life. Oh, pardon, his _un_-life."

"When you've existed as long as I have, you'll find that sometimes the prize is in being proven right. And I… _predict_… that once you and Nicholas are 'away' another possible incarnation will persuade him to remain in yet another place, and you will have little choice but to join him."

Maura laughed out loud. "I wouldn't be so sure, of either thing."

LaCroix approached until he stood quite near, looking down from where he towered over her, and spoke in his characteristic chill-gentle voice.

"Then I will be sure enough for both of us." He looked into her eyes a moment longer, then took two enormous steps back to the center of the room. "But as you say, bon voyage is appropriate, for the moment. Oh don't look at me with such a bitter face, doucette. By now even you must recognize I wish you no ill. However, as the Chinese say, I wish you may live in _interesting_ times." He rose slowly toward the skylight.

"That's a _curse,_ LaCroix," Maura observed drily.

Head nearly touching the skylight, he looked down at her in mock surprise. "Oh my, you're right aren't you?" Then he was gone.

"Fucking family", Maura muttered when Nick came home moments later.

"What?"

"I said your fucking _family_, if they don't drive me to drink, I don't know what!"

As he returned from the kitchen with bottle in one hand and glass in another Nick teasingly offered her the bottle. She scowled silently in response.

"Oh. _That_ kind of drinking. LaCroix mentioned he was dropping by to say goodbye."

She snorted in derision. "LaCroix never says _goodbye_, Bats, he just rings the bell to end the round. He'll be back."

Nick put his glass and bottle down and gave Maura a hug and a kiss. "So will we, Sweet. Until then you can train for the next bout."

* * *

Schanke drove them to the train station for their 9pm departure. After their luggage was sorted out (Nick had sent a number of things on ahead to Scotland, including his motorcycle) he stood on the platform with them as they waited for the boarding call. A whistle blew. 

"Well this is it, partner," Schanke announced. "Have a swell time and don't forget to write. Don't be too long, though, because I might end up liking my new partner better." The two men smirked in familiar unison for a moment, then seized each other in a hard, manly embrace as Maura stood by grinning. Like kids, she thought, or worse yet, siblings. They drove each other crazy, but anyone else had better leave them alone if they knew what was good for them.

"Oh hey, I almost forgot, I picked this up like you asked," Schanke handed Nick a very small black box.

"Ooh, right," Nick took it quickly and stashed it in his coat pocket without further comment. Maura was about to ask what that was all about, but Schanke turned and swept her off her feet into an aerial bear hug.

"You watch out for my partner, you got that?" he instructed when he set her on her feet again.

"No worries," she reached inside her collar and pulled out the silver donut, dangling it on its red silk ribbon. "I got my lucky donut right here."

They shared a look that required no explanation and Maura reached up to hug him around the neck again. "You make sure your partner watches out for _you_ or I'll have to get involved, and it will not be pretty!"

"Excuse me Nick, I gotta kiss your woman," and Schanke did just that, flush on the lips. "Later."

As Schanke walked away Nick regarded Maura with a raised eyebrow. "So how long has _this_ been going on?"

"Oh dear, and I thought we'd been _so_ discreet."

* * *

True to form, Maura slept on Nick's shoulder the whole ride to New York. By 3am they were welcomed aboard as early arrivals. By the time they got to their suite Maura's jaw ached from hanging so low as they got the "inside tour" from Nick's _old_ friend Austin, a charming Englishman who'd been brought across during War of the Roses. 

"To this day, I can't abide roses," he quipped as he led Maura and Nick into their elaborate penthouse. "I hope you don't mind orchids." Orchids of every imaginable variety were set throughout the suite in crystal vases. "Of course, they have no fragrance," he added apologetically.

"Not to worry," Maura winked at Nick, "I brought my own." It was new moon in two nights.

Austin smiled discreetly. "Of course. Well if you require nothing more, I'll leave you to settle in. Nicholas, use the call button if you need anything at all," he indicated a button set in a brass plate near the door. "There's one in the upstairs bedroom as well."

This time Nick winked at Maura. "Oh I think we'll be fine up there," and laughed as Maura blushed scarlet. Austin, ever the professional even if he was an old friend, behaved as if selectively deaf.

"Very good. Enjoy your evening." He fairly glided out the door, but Maura could see that it was a function of his experience as a deluxe steward, not a by-product of his vampire nature.

"Come on, Sweet, let's check out the view." Nick led her to their private balcony overlooking the bow of the ship. From where they were docked the lights of the New York skyline blended with stars faded by the wash of thousands of neon and street lights.

She stood at the rail next to Nick. "Gawd I feel like a romance novel cliché," she told him. "Not that I'm complaining, of course."

"Of course."

"So tell me," her eyes narrowed suspiciously, "what was that hand-off all about at the station? What did Schanke 'pick up' for you?"

"Ah, right." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box of black velvet. "Just a little going away present."

She took it from him with a questioning smile, and opened it to find a breathtaking ring, double emeralds set in white filigree. "Oh my god, Nick, where have you had _this_ stashed?" She put it on immediately (to his great pleasure it fit her left ring finger perfectly) and asked, "I thought you'd already showered me in all of your 'historical knicknacks'", which is how he'd referred to other similar gifts he'd given her since they'd met.

"Come on, give me _some_ credit. I got this one the old fashioned way, I _went shopping_ and picked it out myself. I mean, you lost your favorite, after all, so I thought I'd get you another. I know it's not exactly the same… and it's not platinum, just white gold. So?" He probably didn't need to ask, but couldn't help himself. He'd gone to Tiffany's a few weeks ago, not long after Maura's return in fact, to consult privately with their estate acquisitions specialist. He'd described what type of ring he wanted, emerald and platinum or white gold, filigree would be nice, a Belais original would be ideal. He didn't tell the consultant that it was to replace the ring that had ended up on the hand of a murdered woman.

"This might be a challenge sir," the consultant pointed out. "Original Belais is often held by private collectors, particularly the type of pieces you seem to be looking for."

Nick handed over his double platinum de Brabant Foundation card. "Expense isn't an issue. You can hold onto this if you like."

The man's eyes widened for a moment. "That won't be necessary sir. I'll keep you informed." It had in fact taken less than a week to find the ring that Maura now wore. At $8500 he counted it a bargain, especially in view of Maura's obvious delight.

"'Just' white gold, how tacky, well maybe I'll just throw it overboard," she waved her hand over the rail, but the ring was firmly on her finger and her fist was clutched tight. After a moment's laughter she stopped and observed, "A going away present is supposed to be for someone who's going away from _you_, isn't it?"

Nick nodded, then offered, "A welcome back present, then. Welcome back, my best beloved Sweet. To yourself, and to your life."

"And to you, Nicolas Knight Bats de Brabant. Most of all to you."

They stood there awhile at the balcony rail, the very picture of Romance Novel Cliché, Nick standing behind Maura with his arms wrapped closely around her waist. Finally he turned her around and without speaking pulled her into an impossibly deep, impossibly long kiss. So long, in fact, he had to remind himself to let her come up for air.

"Oh my, detective," she offered weakly, "You are a champion kisser, aren't you?"

He shrugged, smiling slyly. "I'm French. It's a gift."

She was drawing him through the door, pulling him inside and up the stairs to the bedroom. "I do hope it's the kind that keeps on giving, monsieur."

"Bien sur, ma doucette..."


End file.
